I don't remember very much of my childhood, or rather the person I was as a child. There is definitely a disconnect from then and now. One thing I do know is that my time spent daydreaming and fantasizing about my future are some of my happiest memories. I can recall what I wanted in those moments, even though I was never sure about the finer details and the road I had to follow. I always had the one concrete thing present no matter what.
I wanted to be a mother.
To me it was my destiny, it didn't matter what job I had or where I lived, I just knew that the thing that would fulfill me was holding my own child in my arms. The unconditional love, the person who relied solely on you for love and care. They would make you a better person just by living. That's what I yearned for more than anything.
I guess you can't blame me, I was naive and full of hope back then. I didn't know the break was coming because I had forgotten there was even a crack in me. I still have trouble understanding how I lived, it wasn't strength or courage that kept me going. I know now that it was pure ignorance.
I kept myself safe living in a fog, I should have known that it would have crept up on me eventually. Everything is drastically altered now, something fell away and I was swallowed by the darkness-- the reality.
So when I think about being a mother now, I don't feel the way I did before. I ache thinking about how nice it was trapped within the illusion that having a child would fulfill me. Having a child would not mean my salvation, it would be a tragedy. I couldn't live with myself if I brought an innocent child into the world. Inside of me is this diseased and rotten core, along with my physical imperfections I would be sure to infect my child as well. If they weren't affected merely by sharing my DNA, having me as a parent would ruin them. Children are so fragile, when I am around them I am fearful because I know their purity and innocence will be tarnished. I can't be the one to take that from someone. It would be my most selfish act.
I adopt the defences to make sure I don't fall back into the illusion. It works the same way I shield myself from being hurt by letting someone in. Just tell yourself you don't want those things, mould yourself into a person who is indifferent and inconvenienced by having those things. Who wants the responsibility of a child? Who wants to be tied down by marriage and the emotional games people play with each other? Who cares that maybe you are only depriving yourself of these things because the darkness within you wants to see you suffer. Maybe it knows that these things could be the ones that plant doubt about it in your mind, or purge it from you entirely.
Or maybe you just want to surrender to it because you spent 15 years fighting to pretend it wasn't there.

It's true that nothing but personal experience can allow you full understanding. I think if you turn that on its head you can also find some truth from the perspective of someone on the inside. Yes, people who have never hurt themselves on purpose can't understand the motivation behind our way to cope, but those who do self harm can't comprehend why everyone else thinks it's so horrible. Personally, I know on a rational level that self harm is not healthy or something to be proud of. However my rational mind has never been the one at work when I start to look for a blade. When you're in a world you don't recognize and are afraid that nothing is real anymore, when the smallest thing causes an emotional response and your body aches in anticipation, when you need to stop feeling because you can't release everything inside you, or when you need to feel pain because you are a horrible person and deserve it, then maybe you can understand why the price of physical pain seems so small. Of course once your secret is out there, when people start to notice that certain parts of your body are always covered, or wonder what caused every injury no matter how innocent it looks -- you are no longer permitted to complain. If you have pain, even if it is unrelated to self harm you are not given the sympathy everyone else gets. Stubbed your toe? Don't complain because everyone has that instant thought pop into their mind:
"Why is she complaining? Doesn't she like pain, isn't that what she wants?"
That's where the false assumptions come in. I don't seek out physical harm at every hour of the day, if someone throws a ball at my head I am still going to have the natural response of protecting myself. It's difficult to explain, go figure, but sometimes any old injury isn't enough. You have to be the one in control because that's what drives your need to self harm in the first place -- control, and the feeling that you lack it. Life is chaos, self harm is my organization. It's also my protection, if I can cut into my own flesh then I am confirming to myself that I can handle any pain that is thrown at me. If others know I self harm maybe they will stay away from me, be afraid that I am unstable or maybe just not want to touch me where I've self harmed. That way I can stay isolated and the only thing that can hurt me is myself.

I made my decision, the same way I decided days earlier to start taking pills in gradually increased dosages. It started out as yet another way to self harm, to kill myself slowly... Or at least kill the thing inside me that generated all the hatred I have for myself. The same thing that ate away at who I used to be, what I wanted to become.
It left me empty, a void hollowed out by every voice, that touch and every word spoken negatively about who I was. That's why I hold onto all the bad with such a firm grasp, it's the one thing the monster within me refuses to touch. Why wouldn't I want to salvage the shredded pieces of my old self left behind?
They serve as my anchor to the past now... Memories can't be trusted, they are so easily twisted from dreams and figments of the imagination. Pain and scars; they are there no matter what.
Unyielding to time, unforgiving when you need to forget.
You can't fake strong emotion, it's the difference between steel and tin. The times of overwhelming joy, cold hard hopelessness, and extreme fear... leave marks on your soul; your mind.
Or maybe everything I tell myself is a lie, a way to continue the cycle of self abuse. People can move on, they can find it in them to accept what they can't change and instead focus on a future free from it all.
Not me, I don't deserve that much.
I think I'll stay here a while longer... 15, waiting for the lights to come back on.