The Bell Jar

I gave in last night.

I couldn't not. I was expecting my mania to last longer; it usually last longer than a week at least. But it didn't. It was a very short burst. It was almost feeling... 'normal' and teetering on the edge of mania.

All of a sudden, my solid ground turned sand and I began sinking. It was maddening. I was in the car with my father when it happened and as soon as I felt it, I stopped mid sentence but then picked up where I left off. Usually my mixed phases last a few days. This one only lasted a few hours.

I tried to distract myself. Read funny comics, spoke to people. I hate my scars so why would I wish to create more? But I kept feeling that pulsing... that feeling dragging me under and pushing up against my flesh screaming to be released, and really - what could I do?

I told my friends goodnight and went to my locker-bureau. I couldn't find my razor.

I was sent into a frenzy of panic. Where was it? I moved aside all my clothing, eventually emptied the damn thing and still could NOT find my razor. Eventually, I found it on the floor with my clothing. The desperation turned my want to cut into need.

In the end, I discarded the old razor and picked up a new one (which in the end, turned out to cut so much cleaner) and sat on my bed, beginning to draw out the cuts. I always go slow at first and don't break the skin. Ironic as this sounds coming from a self injurer, I'm scared of pain. I hate it.

After a while though, pain DOES become bearable...

I made a few cuts on my inner thigh and watched the blood dribble to the surface. I slowly began making my way outward. I slowly gave in to where I truly wanted to cut - my leg. Not my inner thigh, but my leg. I didn't fucking care if it would be visible while I wore a bakini, I just... I NEEDED it.

Let me tell you how amazing it was. It was a hell of a lot more comfortable than my inner thigh! But then it began nicking... nerves, I believe. I couldn't help but gasp at how amazing it felt... (to think slicing through skin could actually bring pleasure) and as the pulses of ecstasy died down, I thought "Now I know why people believe in their own madness... this must be how it feels to be mad."

------

The other day, I was in the car with my sister. I hadn't seen her in months because she goes to school in Ohio. We decided to have lunch at a nice Thai place; my Pad Thai came with some egg in it, but I thought that the harm was already done, may as well not complain and just eat it. (In the end, I couldn't eat the egg because I felt so sad). My sister began talking to me about the women in Ohio who were trafficked. I did the stupid thing and asked her what trafficking was.

"It's sex slavery." She said and I immediately understood. She then began saying it was prostitution which I countered with "No, it isn't. You have a choice to prostitute yourself to an extent. Sex slavery, you're locked away and brought out to a surprise person each time and then thrown back into your cell." She then replied that as a prostitute, aren't the conditions the same?

"Yes." I said. "To an extent. In the end, you always have the final say. There is a DIFFERENCE between trafficking and prostitution, Leah. Otherwise, both actions would have the same name. These two words aren't synonyms."

We began talking about other things when she saw me push the egg aside. My sister gave an obviously dramatic sigh.

"Oh Sarah, why are you a vegan? You should put your efforts towards a more worthy cause..." Oh no she wasn't - "Like, save the whales if you have to - but what about all the homeless and trafficked women in Ohio? Why not save them..."

At this point, I put my hand on her knee and smiled a quirky smile. "Leah, I'm going to be completely honest with you - I like animals a hell of a lot more than I like people."

She gave me a smile as if she knew what was best for me and replied "Yes... and that's what's so sad."

--------

I began reading Sylvia Plath's "The Bell Jar." It's strange... to see someone writing down words that you've thought and felt for practically all of your teenage years in the exact words you've thought them in. Sometimes, I do believe in reincarnation.

--------

Tomorrow is Mother's Day. I spoke to my sister on the phone last night, before I did anything. I told her not to pick me up this morning. I told her "I'm going down." and there was silence from her end.

Finally she said "But is that really what's best for you?" I told her that when I get like this, all I want to do is sleep and sleep... "Yes, but is that really what's best for you?" She asked yet again, and then pushed forward. "I think it's better for you to be around other people. You shouldn't be left alone."

Exhausted, I replied "Leah, when I'm out, all I'll want to do is sleep. I don't have the energy to pretend right now."

"Call me tomorrow. And tell me then if you want me to pick you up or not."

Doesn't she understand that I hate being around people when I'm this way? That THIS is when I get bitchy, defensive. This is when I want to be alone but when she, my mother and my brother are all together, it's constant tug of war between the three of them and I have only two arms.

She always speaks to me as if she knows better. Because she's sat through ONE psych class, she knows what's BEST for a manic depressive and I hate to bitch, but while she's been sitting through one semester with only one or two weeks covering manic depression, I've had it for YEARS, so fuck off.

Maybe if for ONCE people left me alone, I wouldn't feel so awful.