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Fear of Myself, AKA Another Psychotic Episode

Before reading this, I just want to say this: please don’t judge me. I am not a dangerous person. I simply had a very dark episode yesterday, and I debated posting about it. In the end I decided to write about it because I feel the need to get it off my chest, and I don’t see my therapist until Tuesday.

I had a psychotic episode yesterday. The first one I’ve acted on in at least a year. The last time, I killed a bunch of crickets because I felt they were conspiring against me. This time, I sliced up my left arm.

I think my psychotic self (I prefer to distance myself from my psychosis) has some sort of fascination with blades–during a different episode I cut three deep gashes into the wall of my bedroom with a pocketknife. But this time, out of some kind of irrational, sick sense of curiosity or something I took a large knife and slashed the nearest available flesh–my own arm.

I wasn’t suicidal in the least, and I did not aim for my wrist.

I remember vividly the sight of my skin slicing open, and the blood welling up after a few seconds. What I don’t remember is any pain, thankfully. If I felt it I was unaware of it. Instead I felt something akin to pleasure. Then after a while my psychosis passed, as it always does, and I panicked.

The first thing I did was hold my hand against the wounds to staunch the bleeding. Then I ran upstairs to the first aid kit and secured a gauze pad to my arm, cutting the medical tape with my teeth. Then I wasn’t sure what to do. I just kind of stood there, dazed, shaken, and literally shivering. After about half an hour, I decided to call a friend, because I felt I needed to talk to someone, confess what I had done. I could tell at first she was trying not to freak out, but she didn’t, and I appreciate her so much for that and for talking sense back into me. I was debating whether I should tell about my episode because I didn’t want to get sent back to the mental ward, not with all the work I have to do this close to the end of the year. She helped me set my priorities straight, however. School is important, but it comes second to the safety of myself and others.

So I see my psychiatrist tomorrow and my psychologist the day after. If they decide I need to be committed, I will be unhappy with the decision, but I will go with it. Though I don’t think they will, seeing as I’m no longer psychotic, just a little dazed and still shaken.

To any readers of this post, please understand. I am not some kind of knife-wielding creep. I am normally just a quiet, shy student of psychology. Harmless.


About The Mental Chronicles

I am an otherwise "normal" person who suffers from psychotic depression. This blog is about me, things I like, and my struggle with mental illness.

4 responses to “Fear of Myself, AKA Another Psychotic Episode

  1. SchizoTomasz ⋅

    Self-harm does seem to have some therapeutic aspects in my experience. The sight of one’s own blood, the pain or the “What have I done?” moment probably does something. It’s definitely something that shouldn’t become a habit because of potential scarring.

    I hope you are feeling better. There is usually a trigger for these episodes so I hope you discover it. For me, it was usually school/work stress or being criticized.

  2. Sandy Sue

    Just checking to see if you needed stitches or further medical treatment for the injury. (?)
    Congratulations for calling your friend. That was the perfect next step (as long as you weren’t bleeding to death).
    I’m sure your mental health team will talk with you about why you were unable to keep from acting on the impulses. And then what modifications you can try when your stress is so high. We just keep working’ it, sister.
    Much love and healing winging your way.

    • It took a while, but once the bleeding stopped, I figured I’d be okay without stitches. Now I just have a few gashes that have started healing already.
      Thank you. It was certainly scary, but I’m recovering from it decently, I think.
      Your kind words are much appreciated.

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