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Shmeng of the Week: To Maim or Not To Maim |
Posted by
PrismKat on Saturday, August 31, 2002 - 04:08 AM PST
The subject of self-mutilation has come up in the forums, and I have decided to put my two cents in on that and a bit more. There are a couple of forces that compel me to do so; *and no, one of them is not being possessed* the two of them that embarrass me most being an inflated ego from the last time I submitted and a part of me trying to save my hide from a rather painful flaying by some. They were most likely not directed at me, but dignity *or is it arrogance?* requires some things of me... An explanation? Excuse? Idle thoughts? I really have no idea.
I have seen people with "fashionable" depression and mocked-up mental illnesses. I have seen the ones that cut themselves in hallways with groups of friends to try and impress them. I have seen things that make me ashamed to be grouped in with them, the teenagers. But along with all the false angst and drama are the ones that actually have problems. My mother, for one. Along with my grandmother, two aunts, and most of my cousins. *It has been said that crazy runs in the family...*
A part of me wonders if it isn't something in Seattle that presses the buttons that bring out the pain and delusions, since it was my family's arrival in Washington that began, or at least exposed, the dark roots in our minds. *Sounds rather dramatic, doesn't it? Perhaps I should stick to fiction...*
Just a month or two up here, and it was as if the wool was ripped from my eyes. Not enjoyable to say the least. Suddenly, I saw my relatives with razors hidden in their purses, bathrooms, and cars. Scars that before were only an idle curiosity started to take on a new meaning. Mom had *still has, actually* horrible purple and red gashes up her legs and wrists, pages full of death wishes and thoughts that send shivers up my spine. It's difficult to try and return to the old innocence and naivety after realizing what's going on.
She has been in the hospital roughly every six months on a suicide attempt, getting bandaged up and her stomach pumped before they just send her home again. It is amazing to watch her go from crying and screaming to cheerful and so disgustingly false whenever the phone rings. She talks to me at night, trying to relieve the painful pressure on her mind, but I don't think I do any good. How does one hold another back from the brink when their own arms are missing?
She is bipolar, and I used to think it was the best thing in the world. While other kids' mothers were boring and strict, mine asked nearly every day if I wanted to get a tattoo, or skip school and go to the beach, or just do whatever the hell I felt like. She swung back and forth from dark depression to a hyper childishness, and I must say it is odd to be a parent to someone two decades my senior. But when we came up here, I no longer could focus on the happiness and joy in her. It was like all of that was ripped away.
I go to school and see the fakers. The people with safety pins and needles through every piece of loose flesh on them, and tattoos done in their garage; those that claim any mental disturbance that will get them an extension on homework, that have such wretched lives that even raised allowances and forgotten chores only help a little.
It would be nice to pretend and blend in. To be part of the homogenous blob that only has to worry about whether they can get a date or find a place to get drunk. And yet...
It's like an itch in the back of my mind, something that commands my awareness and won't just let me be. I have seen what pain is really like, and brother, a safety pin through your cheek is not it.
I have done "do-it-yourself" piercings, I'll admit. I lost faith in the professionals after three failed attempts at getting my ears pierced correctly. I have gotten my mom and a cousin to help me, and as the paranoid "mother" in our bunch I looked up the hygiene precautions and sterilization techniques, the safest equipment and so on and so forth.
I sound the ultimate hypocrite worrying about others doing pretty much the same as me, and a drama queen to bring up family issues in what surely sounds like an attempt for attention, so generally I'll not glare at others that look like an acupuncture experiment gone bad. But every day I see the blood in the sink and the notebooks filled with my mother's sighs, and every day I go to school seeing the charlatans with hands permanently attached to their foreheads, so these thoughts run through my mind. As in all my writing attempts, I am not sure whether what I am trying to say comes through, and as always, I stop in confused frustration. Hopefully, one of you will get this, and can understand.
It is fine to have and enjoy whatever things one has done to oneself if no other people are damaged, *"one" sounds so arrogant, but people seem to get indignant if I use the universal "you"* but to use it as a means to try and appear dark and disturbed annoys and irritates me. If you truly do have problems/issues/illnesses, that's one thing, but being "fashionably insane" for the sake of impressing people will cause me to add you to my list of "Most Likely to be Maimed and Abandoned in a Desert."
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To Maim or Not To Maim | Login/Create an account | 9 Comments |
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Re: To Maim or Not To Maim
by bettie_x (strangersangel@hotmail.com)
on Aug 31, 2002 - 07:13 PM
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It was and it is.
I can't agree with you more, and those out there that have or have had legitimate self mutilation problems will understand where you are coming from.
I really think it is just seattle, and we do have one of the highest suicide rates in the nation..and oddly enough, most are self hangings, which is a rather grim, time consuming, and labor intensive in the way of preparation of the act.
Seattle is bad lands. I really think you have to be born here, raised here, to not be so horridly affected by it (as I'm not) and even then, it's a tossup. I actually think I get seasonal affective disorder in the SUMMER...I'm addicted to the usual doom and gloom of the area (or I'm used to it) and hot sunny weather usually puts me into fits of lethargy and massive migranes and insomnia.
I don't know how many transplanted people I've heard muttering "I gotta get the fuck out of here or I"m gonna go down to the Metro and start pickin' off these motherfuckers" (that was my old tattooist who was sick of washington and sick of the metro, a clothing shop down the street)
It's a common thread here, the grey and green, the doom and gloom, but man, it's fun to watch them all go apeshit when the sun comes out :P
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Re: To Maim or Not To Maim
by Comedian (eccentrically_long@yahoo.com)
on Aug 31, 2002 - 08:42 PM
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I knew a group of guys who used to sit around in my English class during the downtime(quite a bit of the class was downtime as the teacher was retiring and didn't give two shits on a tin roof as long as no other teachers complained about the noise) and play what they liked to call "stapler roulette"
5 staplers(all of the same brand) were emptied, and one had a single roll put in. One person of the group of 6 would put it in, shuffle the staplers around, turn his back while the other 5 selected the stapler of their choice. They'd each flip the bottom back on it and hold that as they slapped their forearm witht he business end of the stapler, and the unlucky fucker who caught the staple in the arm would have to pull it out and get to be the guy who put the roll in next round.
My, how high school was such a wonderful time.
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Re: To Maim or Not To Maim
by Meranda_Jade (Meranda@mymind.com)
on Sep 01, 2002 - 07:22 AM
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I know exactly where you're coming from, Prism...
My mom's bipolar too, and it was NO FUN growing up in her house. She was like a child much of the time, when she was happy, she wanted to play, when she was unhappy, she wanted her drugs and booze. Either way, she had no time for her children, we were left to run wild, to grow up on our own... She just didn't care what we did or what happened to us. Or maybe she did care, but didn't feel she could do anything about it, so did nothing. Either way, we went through hell. I looked after my sister as much as I could, and just tried to get along as well as I could under the circumstances. At the time, we didn't even know what bipolar was... we didn't even know that what we were going through was something unusual, everyone in our social circle was messed up in some way, and even the gross neglect and horrendous abuse was seen as normal. Only when we grew up and had kids of our own did we realize that families do not have to be like that. I got by with a fantastic group of friends, and my sister got pregnant and married as soon as she could get away with it. Neither of us cut or mutilated ourselves, we just took it and dealt with it the best way we could, knowing that someday we would grow up and leave the situation. It wans't our fault that our mother couldn't handle life or parenthood.
It's ok to tell your story here, that's what Shmeng is all about. I know you're not doing it to get attention, neither am I. It's a story that you have inside you, and a part of what makes you the person you are. I do understand. There are some people here who really have gone through extreme pain, and are in no way faking it to look cool.
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Re: To Maim or Not To Maim
by PrismKat (prism7cat@hotmail.com)
on Sep 02, 2002 - 01:19 PM
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Thanks so much to those of you that commented. bettie_x, meranda_jade, it's nice to hear such things and have more information. *I wish I could think of a better way to say that, but i s'pose i have to settle.* Thank you.
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