So, I didn't really make myself sad "on purpose," more like, I knew that what I was doing was going to lead to a full blown Attack of Sad, but I did it anyway. What I did seems like a seriously dumb thing, but I listened to Johnny Cash's "Hurt" on repeat for like 30 minutes. Like, I was sobbing over making dinner and would start the song over again, and that happened for 30 minutes' worth of music. By the time The Hubby came home, I was almost incoherent.
Now you may be asking yourself a couple of questions: 1) Why the hell did you do that, if you knew it was going to make you cry? and 2) Really? You cried that much over a song? (And Hubby's question, 3) Why don't you turn it off if it makes you this sad, you dork?) I will give a short answer for the second question first, because, basically, to me, if you don't at least tear up at that song, you have a heart of stone and you are dead inside and a stranger to Jesus (kidding about the last part).
The first question is a little more complicated. I have a pretty wide and well documented streak of self-destructiveness in me -- I used to abuse painkillers, I used to cut, I used to do a lot of other stupid shit that was bad for me. Today, I had been flip-flopping in mood all day. I was sad for some friends, I didn't feel really great, and then I walked twice and got dressed and did my makeup and looked AWESOME and went out for a bit, knowing that I was pretty, which is still such a new feeling that it still kind of shocks me to say it. Then, I was making dinner, and I had VH1 on, they were doing the Best Songs of the '00s on, and that kind of thing is nice to have on for background music, etc. while cooking. And they were talking about "Hurt" and Johnny Cash, and I remember my first time hearing that song so vividly that it kind of stopped me in my tracks. When I first heard that song, I was working at a record store in Newport, RI, after having to take some time off from school due to being a suicidal nutjob. I can't remember if it was before or after my major suicide attempt, in September of 2003, which eventually lead to my moving out here to Oklahoma. Now, I want you guys to know, I knew that this song had first been done by Nine Inch Nails but I had not then (nor have I now), heard the original version. I know that's blasphemy to a music-lover, but I just love Cash's version so damn much, it just rips your damn soul out.
But that first line of the song, "I hurt myself today, to see if I still feel," is a good descriptor of what some cutters feel like, what some people who try to drown their pain in other pain are trying to tell themselves. For me, cutting became about control. I wanted to be in control of my pain, so I would hurt myself. But I mentioned my self-destructiveness, I have hurt myself in a lot of ways that weren't inflicted by a razor, although that may be considered the most inexplicable thing I've done. For a lot of things, I think I looked at it as numbing -- I remember saying once when someone suggested I had drank too much that I had not, because I could still feel. And there were a lot of times like that.
I think... I'm still trying to sort out why I made myself sad today. Part of it, I think, was that I may have just needed the release a good cry brings. There have been some major upheavals happening lately, I had surgery, and I may have just needed to let it all out. Maybe I wanted to test myself, to see if I'm really as "healed" and doing better as I've been bragging about. Maybe I just wanted to see if I still feel.
Well, I do. That song brought back every terrible thing I've ever done to myself, every terrible thing I've ever done to others, and made me completely beside myself with grief and worry and guilt and... sincere and utter regret. I know everyone says don't have regrets, but I do. I've made a terrible mess of things on many, many occasions, and those things still weigh on my conscience pretty fucking heavily.
And why didn't I turn it off, when the waterworks and the bad memories started? Well, I guess I have a bit of a martyr complex. Maybe I wanted to punish myself for being happy lately. Maybe I haven't come as far as I thought I have. Maybe I still think that I don't deserve good things.
I don't know. But at least I'm asking the questions, trying to sort this all out. Before I just would have continued sobbing. Before I would have laid down in the kitchen and cried desperately as I wondered what the hell was wrong with me, and that I wanted to go home (as if some magical place that doesn't exist anymore would solve anything). So this process of looking at this stuff logically is a step in the right direction. That's good. Go me.
Now, will someone please come over here and turn this fucking song off?
Now you may be asking yourself a couple of questions: 1) Why the hell did you do that, if you knew it was going to make you cry? and 2) Really? You cried that much over a song? (And Hubby's question, 3) Why don't you turn it off if it makes you this sad, you dork?) I will give a short answer for the second question first, because, basically, to me, if you don't at least tear up at that song, you have a heart of stone and you are dead inside and a stranger to Jesus (kidding about the last part).
The first question is a little more complicated. I have a pretty wide and well documented streak of self-destructiveness in me -- I used to abuse painkillers, I used to cut, I used to do a lot of other stupid shit that was bad for me. Today, I had been flip-flopping in mood all day. I was sad for some friends, I didn't feel really great, and then I walked twice and got dressed and did my makeup and looked AWESOME and went out for a bit, knowing that I was pretty, which is still such a new feeling that it still kind of shocks me to say it. Then, I was making dinner, and I had VH1 on, they were doing the Best Songs of the '00s on, and that kind of thing is nice to have on for background music, etc. while cooking. And they were talking about "Hurt" and Johnny Cash, and I remember my first time hearing that song so vividly that it kind of stopped me in my tracks. When I first heard that song, I was working at a record store in Newport, RI, after having to take some time off from school due to being a suicidal nutjob. I can't remember if it was before or after my major suicide attempt, in September of 2003, which eventually lead to my moving out here to Oklahoma. Now, I want you guys to know, I knew that this song had first been done by Nine Inch Nails but I had not then (nor have I now), heard the original version. I know that's blasphemy to a music-lover, but I just love Cash's version so damn much, it just rips your damn soul out.
But that first line of the song, "I hurt myself today, to see if I still feel," is a good descriptor of what some cutters feel like, what some people who try to drown their pain in other pain are trying to tell themselves. For me, cutting became about control. I wanted to be in control of my pain, so I would hurt myself. But I mentioned my self-destructiveness, I have hurt myself in a lot of ways that weren't inflicted by a razor, although that may be considered the most inexplicable thing I've done. For a lot of things, I think I looked at it as numbing -- I remember saying once when someone suggested I had drank too much that I had not, because I could still feel. And there were a lot of times like that.
I think... I'm still trying to sort out why I made myself sad today. Part of it, I think, was that I may have just needed the release a good cry brings. There have been some major upheavals happening lately, I had surgery, and I may have just needed to let it all out. Maybe I wanted to test myself, to see if I'm really as "healed" and doing better as I've been bragging about. Maybe I just wanted to see if I still feel.
Well, I do. That song brought back every terrible thing I've ever done to myself, every terrible thing I've ever done to others, and made me completely beside myself with grief and worry and guilt and... sincere and utter regret. I know everyone says don't have regrets, but I do. I've made a terrible mess of things on many, many occasions, and those things still weigh on my conscience pretty fucking heavily.
And why didn't I turn it off, when the waterworks and the bad memories started? Well, I guess I have a bit of a martyr complex. Maybe I wanted to punish myself for being happy lately. Maybe I haven't come as far as I thought I have. Maybe I still think that I don't deserve good things.
I don't know. But at least I'm asking the questions, trying to sort this all out. Before I just would have continued sobbing. Before I would have laid down in the kitchen and cried desperately as I wondered what the hell was wrong with me, and that I wanted to go home (as if some magical place that doesn't exist anymore would solve anything). So this process of looking at this stuff logically is a step in the right direction. That's good. Go me.
Now, will someone please come over here and turn this fucking song off?
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