He's walking more and more each day. He seems to want to spend a lot of time outside. I imagine the grass feels good on his little feet. Also, the air conditioner inside our house hasn't worked pretty much all summer, so it's probably nice to get out of our damn sweat box.
I like spending time with Maxwell because it gets my mind off of other things, like my constant urge to want to cut myself. Maxwell makes those pains go away. It's just him smiling at me, laughing. Good times.
There are other things, however, that don't make the pain go away. Other things bring those feelings of wanting to cut back.
Things like the redhead at work, the ONLY PERSON THERE that doesn't like me. I have worked hard to be liked in that store and I have become friends with a lot of people and I am almost universally liked. But there's one woman who won't talk to me, won't look at me, will avoid being near me, and will almost RUN if I appear. Not even any small talk. No sign that she sees me as another human being. Nothing. She fucking hates me. And she's in a position at work, too, where it's basically her JOB to talk to cashiers like me. And she absolutely REFUSES to have ANY contact with me! What gives? What the hell did I ever do to you?
Things like the fight I had with my wife just now. She walked up to me and silently stared at me. I assumed that she was angry at me and was waiting for me to do something for her or I did something wrong. That's how I usually feel she feels towards me because I'm usually right. And so she got angry at me for that and stormed into our room. So basically I said that I felt she is angry at me a lot and she respond by getting REALLY ANGRY at me. See, marriage is a mystery wrapped in an enigma and sprinkled with one sided arguments you have NO CHANCE of winning, even if you're right.
Things like the robbery that I was in a few years ago. I wrote a piece here a few days ago about how my work inadvertently reminded me of the robbery I was in. Since then I have been frightened easier and fighting small bits of random deep depression. I get so sad, too, and lonely, I want to cry. And there's people. I just don't trust them, any of them. It's not fun.
I have been cutting myself lately.
Well, actually, I have been cutting a lot lately.
There's a specific part that I like to cut on my arm. I like it because it stings like a motherfucker AND it bleeds a lot, so it's a win-win. I use razors and boxcutters I happen to find at work and while I am driving and I'm feeling blue, which is more and more frequent lately, I slice the skin open as hard as I can. And when I'm done I use my thumb to stretch the wound open as much as I can to make it look worse.
If anyone at work asks me what happened when they see the scars and the blood, I usually just answer with a straight "Pirates" and somehow that works. I guess I'm strange and funny enough that having that as an answer usually passes muster somehow.
My wife hates it when she sees a new cut. She gets mad at me, like me hating myself and wanting to punish myself for being so horrible is somehow a reflection on her. It's not. But her anger at me upsets me even more. I would like it if she would get sad for me, want to talk to me about my feelings, about why I do this, about what brought it on, about how she can help make it stop. She usually, however, just gets really pissed off at me and even sometimes GRABS THE WOULD AND TWISTS IT as punishment.
Which is kind of ironic, really. It's like I'm outsourcing hurting myself to my wife.
I know I should stop. And I am trying. But it's hard as hell and I have no help.
It is called "Sharp: A Memoir" and it is by David Fitzpatrick. Apparently it is a harrowing story of one man's 20-year struggle with bipolar disorder and self-mutilation.
And I am pretty psyched about this book and I will tell you why. I have looked for some sort of book that might help be overcome my constant cutting and the impressive boxcutter collection I have amassed to help me cut my arm open. I have really looked my bookseller ass off looking for a book that might help.
And every single book I have found, EVER DAMN ONE, has been for girls.
Has been for TEENAGE girls.
Books with bits like "Ask your girlfriends for help" and "Tell your teacher or school counselor about it" and shit like that. How is that going to help me, a thirty five year old man who cuts? What book is there that I can relate to and go to for help?
Well, I may have just found my book.
And I am pretty damn psyched about that, too.
Wish me luck!