Mental Health Mondays: Somewhere Over The Rainbow



It's almost her birthday.
It's almost the time that I lost her forever.

It's the season that we've shared the most vibrate and cutting memories. 

I miss Anja so fucking much. Why would she do this? Her silence is more crushing than anything I’ve ever experienced before. I miss her so much and there’s no way that she can ever come back to me. I wish she would have told me, spoken to me once last time. The silence will forever haunt me and in these times of grief, I will forever remember her soft, delicate voice.  It’s hard to believe that 4 years have now passed since we were laying on her lounge/bedroom floor watching Deutschland such den Superstar eating strawberry-rhubarb filled chocolates and laughing about my time in Prague & Dresden. Cuddled under her jet black duvet we laughed and argued over who we wanted to win at the finale. I remember how the shadows played off of us as the sun sunk that evening. We looked like half human half shadow people

The shadows would corrode the day, our time forever slipping away. I never believed that we’d have so little time; that it would meet such a hollow and destructive end. I should have realised that each day we were fighting time. I never realised just how delicately suspended we were.

I will never forget the grooves of her skin and the patterns that decorated her small frame. The pale white lines of older cuts and the vivid pinks of freshly healing wound contrasted with the cream colour of her skin which was always in perfect contrast to her jet black hair. I remember how she’d laid against me, wrapped in a blanket and my left arm and we’d dream of the stars. Her wounds would somehow almost always align with my own although no words or photos were exchanged during our intense and violent bursts of self-harm. The connection was intense and defied space and time. I wonder if I will ever be able to hold experiences like this ever again. 

I remember how her hands would dance across my skin, leaving trails of electricity. Her destruction would mingle with my own creating a calm, bathed and reborn in the flesh and blood of the other, we could regain that much-craved control. She would sink into me, her being almost a head shorter despite the years she had on me. I was the dominate, yet I always knew the time to be submissive. I’d crave her poison and self-hatred. She would crave my sociopathic and egotistical lust. I saw her love for me reflected in her golden irises. And in me, she found the daring almost destructive dedication she longed for. 

I desperately want to rewind the time, but I feel no desperation for the hunks of my flesh that she consumed. I never want to take back the screams or expel all that she made me feel. My friendship with her was one of intense emotion, insanity and love.

I don't know if I will ever get over this trauma of losing her. She was my best friend, my sister, my i-don't-know-what-to-say. Why didn't she tell me? Why didn't I know this was coming? What the fuck did I miss? Was I being so entirely selfish, waffling in my own despair that I was unable to see that she was in danger of going over the waterfall? Why didn't she leave me a letter? One final communication? Did I not mean to her what I thought I did? What was this entire relationship? Was I just an activity? Something to distract her before the big game? All sorts of doubts still run through me. In all the time I've spent thinking about this, looking back through photos, reading our old letters and emails, I realised in her way she really did love me. She cared about me in the ways that she knew how. I saw both of our selfishnesses that united us and the sorrow that kept us bound together. Looking back, we were just two scared, isolated people who were flailing our arms, screaming in a language we barely understood. I think for the rest of my life I will live with this sort of guilt that I didn't think clearly enough. I know that logically, at the time struggling with my own manic-depression I was unable to think clearly enough. I was present in the way that I could be at the time. I never want to make that same mistake again. 


If you know someone who feels like they're slipping away, honestly, just reach out for them. Don't be afraid to ask them what's wrong or upset them by asking. Most of the time they want someone there, even if they get angry at first. Sometimes all it takes is someone to say the words, "I'm here." in a calm, soft manner. I know it may sound hypocritical of me, a cutter and known self-abuser, to say things like this but I speak from experience on this one. Don't start it. If you haven't damaged your skin or body in any way don't. It's a step down a steep slope that will leave you more alone than you ever dreamed. It will rob you of the happiness you desperately want, the friendships you long for, the love you seek. It will destroy chances of beautiful clothes and memories with blood, scars and shame. It will leave people disgusted, horrified and confused by the sight of you. It causes doubts to build not only in their minds but yours as well. It hollows you out further and leaves you always thirsty for relief. 

Last night I realised that I had been cutting myself the same number of years a friend of mine has been alive. 15 years. The thought was echoing, sobering in a way. The entire lifetime of this person was equal to the number of years I've been opening my person suit in more often than not, a gruesome fashion. Before my eyes, I saw physically a lifetime of sadness, self-hatred, misunderstanding, abuse and suffering. It was a lot easier for me to take a step back in this type of context and say, "well fuck." Seeing cuts and talking about the amount of time spend doing them is one thing, but to see it was a whole other thing for me. I've  through periods of no self-harming of any form, No cutting, bone hitting, starving, binge-puking, and somehow I always find my way back to the arms of this destructive lover. It's an addiction and abusive relationship. At the time, I don't always realise it. I don't think a lot of people do, actually. Over the past few weeks, I've learned a lot about myself as a human being and as an individual. I'm sort of ashamed to say it's taken me so long to do so, but the time just wasn't right. I didn't think my mid-20's would be such a time for growth. Fuck, I didn't even think I would make it to my mid-20's if I'm being honest. 2017 might just be the year of new embraces for me after all so much has changed already and we're barely 6 months into the year.

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