Friday, March 30, 2012

Awesome Sauce!

Despite my post last night, I feel like this today:

 I'm pretty sure that's what I look like when I dance.  I think a lot of it has to do with actually going to work in the field yesterday. I've been feeling so bored and useless these last 9 months without a job and a life. I spent the day surrounded by preschoolers and my coworker instead of hiding under my covers until therapy.

My feet
Maybe it's cuz everything I'm wearing today is new. For some reason I have been saving (well it's more like avoiding buying myself stuff), every gift card I've gotten for like five years. Now I have this abundance of gift card money and nothing to buy. I don't know why I never spent any of them. I love shopping, but I hate shopping for me. So after work yesterday, I made myself go get a few things. No one could guess by looking at me, or even looking at my shoe inventory, but I have a thing for shoes. If I had the money to support my addiction, I'd need a 12 step program. I got these new kicks for way cheap online, but they arrived today...super fast. I think they may be a half size too big though.  I think I'm way too excited about my new keens and my shirt with thumb holes built in.  It's just a simple black shirt, but it has thumb holes!  and I didn't have to cut them myself!

I got a lot done today. I went to a couples therapy intake session. Yeah...was as fun as it sounds, but not nearly as bad as I expected. I always hate giving my life history. I hate the pitying looks I get in response. It was also way harder with my girlfriend sitting next to me. I felt a lot more panic and anxiety about my answers than I usually do. I'm not sure why. The questions were really invasive and specific. I'm not sure why they needed such extremely detailed information to find us a couples therapist. My girlfriend seemed really shocked at my answers, which made me feel weird and kind of twitchy.

I also filled out my time sheet for work, entered my direct deposit information, selected my benefits at work, did some DBT homework, made a doctors appointment for my TB test and my gross tongue issue, called Dr. K for help with my DBT homework (never done that before. She was spewing out way too much praise). I also cleaned and gardened. Whoop.

I'm gonna meet a friend for tea right now and then I'm going out to dinner with my girlfriend later.

Therapy, shame, and self hatred

Therapy on Wednesday was all about the shame I feel about my life, history, and about being a foster kid.  I don't feel like she really gets it.  She said that she doesn't have very many people ask her family and childhood questions.  I told her that I think she just doesn't notice those kinds of questions because they are simple, easy questions for her to answer.  She said that I am probably right.  I know I'm right.

Triggering stuff after the jump.

Monday, March 26, 2012

Sunday, March 25, 2012

When you don't have a family

The list below is not meant to say that everyone with a family has had everything on I've listed.  The list is just a list of what aged out foster children never had and will never have.  I in no way mean that families provide this whole list for normal people.  I don't mean that people from abusive families don't have pain.  I don't mean that normal people have had everything on the list either.  It's just a list of what I never even had the possibility of having, even by really abusive families.  The point is that we've never had anything on the list.    

Saturday, March 24, 2012

Love, family, paperwork

I can't get out of bed today.  I can't face the world.  I can't stop crying.  I'm thinking about nyquil and sleeping pills, razors, and putting myself in a medicated coma.  Monday will be 1 year since I attempted suicide and failed.  I wish I hadn't changed my mind at the last minute.  I wish I had just let myself go to sleep forever.  

My girlfriend's mom has been in town this week.  I'm not a huge fan of her mom, but it makes me happy to see her so happy.  It also makes me feel really sad for me.  God, I really want a mom and a family.  I want that more than anything in this world.  I would cut off my legs for a mom.  I would do just about anything.  I want to feel as loved as my girlfriend's mom loves my girlfriend.  I want someone who loves me so much that they think everything I do is brilliant and amazing.

I'm there a word that means more than depressed?  I feel so destroyed right now.  I'm not even really able to fake it for my gf's mom right now.  I've just been hiding in bed, secretly crying.  Crying for my mom, but my mom has never existed.  I've cried for my mom my whole life.  I've literally cried the words "I want my mom," for most of my life, never knowing who I was crying for.  I've grown up alone.  No one "raised me."  No one was excited that I took my first steps.  No one was excited when I learned to ride a bike or when I started school.  No one cared when a boy broke my heart for the first time.  No one cared when I went to college.  No one was ever around long enough to care.  No one kept me.  No one wanted me.  No one was ever proud of me.  No one loved me.  I have never been connected to anyone in my life. It's a hard way to live, feeling so alone and unloved.  It's nearly impossible to survive that as a child, and it's really fucking hard as an adult.  Even though I have a girlfriend and a few friends that say that they love me, I don't really know what that means.  I never learned how to feel loved.  To me love means pain.  It is just something people say to me, but it doesn't really mean very much.  Love isn't something that I can have, at least not for very long.  Love is terrifying.  I feel so empty and sad and alone.  I've felt so empty and alone my entire life.

I still have to work on that LAPD paperwork, but I can't even get out of bed right now.  I got a call from the officer asking me if I could turn it in soon.  I can't face that right now.  My heart hurts too much.  My head hurts too much.

why would someone do this to a foster kid?

Someone decided to twist up my emotions for a week.  Offering me adoption, taking it away.  Offering me adoption again, taking it away.  Offering me friendship and "let's start over," then taking it away when I can't do something fast enough.  "I will love you unconditionally if you delete blog entries."  "I will love you unconditionally only if you do X."  Not quotes, but that's basically the gist of our interactions. I was actually going to do it too, but before I got a chance, she threatened to dump me again, only an hour after the request. Last night I got a bunch of text messages and emails like this.  When I didn't answer fast enough or do what she wanted fast enough, I was dumped, or threatened to be dumped.  When I asked her to stop contacting me because the back and forth was too painful, I get a hurtful email dumping me again.  I just do not understand why someone would or could do this, especially someone "who fell in love with me and loves me fiercely and unconditionally."  If someone has read my whole blog, how could they do this to a former foster child, obviously starving for love and family?

Thursday, March 22, 2012

Drained and dehydrated after therapy

Love, friendship, and Adoption offers

I have recently received an email from a sweet and well meaning reader offering to adopt me through adult adoption.  I am sure this offer came from a good place and in some ways I am touched by the offer.  It's seductive and alluring and so very very scary.  It also really hurts.  It makes me feel a little pathetic.  It makes me feel like an impulse buy.

When I say I am desperate for family, I mean I am desperate for love and connection, and a mostly unbreakable bond.  I am desperate for relationships that are comfortable and emotionally intimate.  For people who know me and all my quirks and problems and love me anyway.  I am desperate for roots, and support, and guidance, and all that junk.  I want to be lovable and loved.  Unconditionally.

As much as I want these things, I know that it's not possible for me anymore.  Even if by some crazy miracle this happens for me, it won't take away my past or my yearning for family, or the more than quarter century I spent without loving hearts to call mine.  Without a place to call home.  None of these things can be found in strangers on the internet.  

Sunday, March 18, 2012


The drive to Tucson went pretty smoothly.  I was pretty successful at holding in the sobbing until I could get to some place alone, like the bathroom at IHOP, the bathroom at a gas station, the bathroom at my friend's house.  I've cried a lot, but been pretty successful at not getting caught.  I was not able to sleep last night, so it's nice that I can blame my puffy eyes on my lack of sleep. 

Actual Tucsonans
I totally forgot that today was St Patrick's day.  I also forgot that Tucson, for some really weird reason, is REALLY into this holiday.  All the things I wanted to do today were kind of killed by the beer soaked green mob.  I remember having a lot of fun with this holiday as a kid.  When I was 17 I dyed my hair green (the wash out kind) with purple tips (even went to work at Blockbuster that way) because I knew it would get me into the bar with my really horrible fake ID.  I don't know why Tucson is so into the Irish.  I should look that up.

Friday, March 16, 2012

Feeling a little calmer for now

Thank you for the support guys.  I don't think I say that enough.  It really does matter to me, and it really does make a difference.  I don't have many people who get to see the scary, fucked up parts of me, so having this blog, while painful, embarrassing, and triggering at times, has helped me in a lot of ways.  I've used it with my therapy.  I've used it as a tool for therapy.  There have been many times that I would not have been able to tell my therapists things before I wrote them here.  You guys have helped me a lot.

PTSD explosion

I'm pretty depressed today, like uber depressed.  I was in so much physical pain yesterday and it's started already today.  Extreme pain that I am pretty sure is all in my head.  Nothing helped.  Not painkillers.  Not heat.  Not ice.  Nothing.  I was ready to go to the doctor a few times, but what would I say?  I'm having really painful body memories but nothing is really wrong with me?

Thursday, March 15, 2012

3/15/12 therapy

Me:  How are you?
CT:  I'm alright.  How are you?
Me:  (shrug) I dunno.  I'm me.
CT:  What does that mean today?
Me:  I don't know.  (long silence).  I'm just tired of my life and being me.
CT:  What does that mean?
Me:  I don't know.  (I tilt my head to the back of the couch and push my hair out of my face).
CT:  Well, you're being kind of vague.
Me:  I guess, I'm just really tired of not feeling good.  It feels like anytime I start to feel better, a giant piano falls from the sky and squashes me. 
CT:  Is there a new piano?
Me:  No.  I'm just having a really hard time with the questions I have to answers.
CT:  Uh huh.
Me:  And I know it's stupid, but I'm having all these irrational feelings.  Like, when a door opens near me, I feel this intense panic and then I get so angry because it's so stupid.  There is no reason to panic about a door opening. 
CT:  But you are having these feelings.  The anger is only adding to it.  Feelings don't have good or bad labels.  They just are.  "Okay, so I'm feeling really frightened right now.  How can I soothe myself?"
Me:  Yeah, but this makes no sense.
CT:  It doesn't have to right now.
Me:  I'm totally losing my mind.  Yesterday I was making a salad and broke down while picking up some kale.  I sobbed over kale.  I'm so weepy lately.  I'm crying all the time.  It's so stupid and annoying.
CT:  So you're having lots of feelings right now.  It's okay to be weepy.
Me:  Actually weepy isn't really the right word.  It's more like Sobby.
CT:  Well, it's okay to be sobby too.
Me:  It's really intrusive.
CT:  Yeah, I know, but all you can do is just go with it.  It's okay to cry.
Me:  I don't like to cry.
CT:  I know you don't.

We talk more about crying and feelings and not judging them.  Blah blah blah blah blah.  Things get really quiet for a while.  Eye contact is really hard for me, especially in therapy, so I usually stare at my hands.  I am usually making shapes with my fingers, like hearts, squares, triangles, or I'm clapping my fists together.  I start to tear up.

CT:  What's going on for you right now?
Me:  (crying)  I just feel really alone.
CT:  Yeah. (her eyes are watery and her voice is soothing and affectionate)  It must be so hard answering those kinds of questions.  It must feel so overwhelming.
Me:  I keep having these really intense pains in my body, but I know they are in my head, but they really hurt.  It's so freaking stupid. 
CT:  You're having some somatic symptoms.  Some body memories.
Me:  Except I don't remember ever feeling very much pain as a kid.  I remember being at the hospital the second time and the doctors told me that I was really brave and strong because I wasn't crying, but I wasn't crying because I didn't feel anything.
CT:  Well, that is kind of a really stupid thing to say, but it seems like you are reliving some body memories that you dissociated back then.
Me:  (sobbing) It hurts so much.  All of it hurts.  
CT:  I know honey.

Me:  I keep having all these stupid feelings, like I'm scared when doors open.  I feel scared that Tim is coming for me, but I know it's stupid.  I feel like he might be behind the door.  I feel really scared about getting him in trouble.  What is wrong with me?  He's dead.  I have all these confusing feelings.  Like when I was a kid.  I was terrified of him, I hated him, I wanted to protect him, and I loved him all at the same time.  I feel so mixed up.  Whenever a hear an abrupt male voice, My heart jumps a little inside.
CT:  It's natural that male voices will be hard for you right now.  Lets not judge these experiences.  Lets label them as experiences and not stupid or bad or useless.  You are experiencing something.  The anger and the judgement are only going to add to the pain.
Me:  I know, but that's where I always go.  I try to tell myself that it's okay, it'll be okay.  The anger isn't helping, but I get so overwhelmed with it.  I'm so overwhelmed with hate for myself.

CT and I talk about this for a while.  I get quiet and withdrawal a little.

CT:  Hey, what's going on over there?
Me:  I don't know how to put words to some of the things I have to write about.  I mean, I've never tried, and I get a little frozen when I to write about it and put it down on permanent record. 
CT:  Uh huh.  

I am lost in thought for a little while.

Me:  My mom and Tim were a lot alike.
CT:  What do you mean.
Me:  I mean, after my mom beat me, she'd sometimes hold me and cry and tell me how much she loved me.
CT:  Ugh!
Me:  And Tim would collapse next to me and start crying.  And I know it's so messed up but I would feel so bad and say "I'm sorry."  (I start sobbing really hard).

I do not know what CT said, but she was warm and affectionate and said a lot of negative things about Tim.

Later we talked about all my other symptoms, "new" memories.  Physical pain.  Smelling things that aren't really there.  Nightmares.  Weird nightmares where I am both Tim and me at the same time.  She thinks that makes sense, but I think it's ridiculous.  I told her that it's so hard for me to sleep because I'm scared of my dreams and I am so anxious and scared that Tim will come into my room even though I know he can't and that I could probably kick his ass today.    She starts to talk about things that I can do that are soothing.

Me:  I've tried, but nothing I do helps anymore.
CT:  What have you tried?
Me:  Drawing...
CT:  What happens when you draw?
Me:  I've broken a lot of pencils and pens.
CT:  Why?
Me:  I don't know.  I guess I end up pushing too hard.

CT starts to list other things I could do to soothe myself.  She talks about music, meditation, soothing smells, activities I like.  I tell her about the things I've tried.

CT:  What about walking on the beach?
Me:  yeah, but I'm afraid of having a panic attack or sobbing in public.
CT:  So, what if you sob in public?
Me:  I don't know.
CT:  (Shrugs her shoulders)  So you cry.  Nothing bad will happen if you have feelings in public.
Me:  I guess not. 
CT:  You need to find something that soothes you.  What if you make a space that is really cozy in your apartment, with lots of pillows and things that make you feel good.  You can sit there when you're not feeling good and try to relax.  If that means it only works for 5 minutes, that means you got a 5 minute break.  That doesn't mean that memories and feelings won't break in while you're trying to soothe yourself.  Just let those experiences happen and try not to judge them.  Try to have compassion and not get angry.
Me:  Okay.  I'll try.
CT:  How many more questions do you have?
Me:  I'm almost done, but it's taking me so long to do it.
CT:  Okay.  We have to stop now.  Deep breathes okay?  I will see you Wednesday.
Me:  Okay.

A breakdown with kale and beans

I'm sitting on the floor by myself in the dark.  I'm just inside my closet with my feet sticking outside, into my dollhouse sized "living room."  I have a giant black dog squished between my leg and the door frame.  I'm the calmest I've been in a couple of days, but I'll admit that I've had a little chemical help.  Sedatives, nyquil, melatonin, chamomile tea, a shot of vodka.  I'm kind of angry at myself.  Well, I'm pretty much always angry at myself, even when I intellectually know that it makes no sense.  I'm angry because I bought four bottles of Nyquil last Saturday and Um... well, it's all gone.  I know it's bad for me.  I know it's not helping me in the long run.  I really have no idea why I'm doing it.  I was really sick one time and Nyquil knocked me out.  It was the first time I felt calm and was able to sleep a normal amount of hours in one night, so now it's what I run to when I'm freaking out and can't find any relief.

I'm really having a hard time with these questions.  I feel like such a disgusting, fucked up, horrible freak.  I don't know how to put words to some of the things I have to write about.  I mean, I've never tried to put words to it before.  It's always just been pictures and sounds and feelings for me.  I'm not sure I can verbalize or write it down on permanent record.  I am full of so much anxiety and fear.  I don't know why.  It's not rational.  It's not helpful.  But I'm filled with this intense fear all the time lately.  It's like I'm expecting something really horrible to be waiting for me just a few steps away.  I feel like the ditsy teenage girl in a horror film, scared and hysterical and making really stupid decisions.  I feel like the answers are so obvious but I'm oblivious and doing all the wrong things, much like the idiotic teen in a horror flick.  "Why are you running outside?  Stupid!  The bad guy is out there!"

Wednesday, March 14, 2012


It's a very very long questionnaire.  I haven't even read all of it yet.  I know these are simple basic questions, but I am not handling them very well.

These are totally out of order and paraphrased.  I really don't know how to answer some of these.

Tuesday, March 13, 2012


I've been sobbing all day, like literally all day.  I woke up crying, and I've been crying nonstop since 2pm.  I can't do this anymore.  I know this is so melodramatic, but I really can't.  I just can't.  If there is anyone out there that cares, please hire a hit man for me.  Maybe I can add a hit man fund button on my blog.  Life shouldn't suck this much.  Maybe I am the one who is making it suck, but it still sucks and I don't see it ever not sucking.  I need someone to have some mercy for me and bring me some peace and quiet.  Something to kill the pain.  There aren't many people that will miss me.  I always care about people more than they care about me, but I'm kind of a fucked up freak, so it makes sense.  Even if anyone does miss me, they will be better off anyway.

I want to die.  I need to die.  I really am so fucking tired.  I'm so exhausted.  I don't have much more in me and I've been saying that for over a year.  I've been over extended for most of my life and I've ran out of fuel.  I've been running on fumes, but now my engine is burned out and busted.  I've been so thirsty for so long now that it's never going to be possible to satisfy that need and take the misery away.  The thirst is permanent.  The burns are permanent.  I've ran on empty too long.  I'm worn out and unfixable.  I'm not worth fixing.  It hurts too much to keep spinning around on empty without a path or nourishment.  Time to stop now.  Time to rest. I'm sad. I'm pathetic. I'm alone. I'm lonely. I'm in so much pain.  I'm so fucking tired and I really just don't want to try anymore.

Random tears. Random places. No reasons.

I've been sobbing most of the day, with a couple hours break, then back to sobbing for no reason, and I really mean sobbing.  The vocal kind of uncontrollable sobbing with the hiccup like breathing and everything.  It comes out of nowhere, for absolutely no reason.  I fucking hate it. 

The more I reflect on myself and my life, the more I hate about it.  I hate my sense of humor.  I hate what an asshole I am.  I hate how anxious and self conscious I am.  I hate that I am dyslexic and have almost no grammar skills.  I am closing in on my 3rd decade and I've done nothing with my life.  I hate how needy I am.  I hate how fucking screwed up I am.  I hate my emotions.  I hate how they can jump from calm to sobbing for absolutely no reason.  I hate my nightmares.  I hate my panic attacks.  I hate my C-PTSD.  I hate how weak I am.  I hate my flashbacks.  I hate how much I complain.  I hate that I am complaining about complaining.  I hate how negative I am (I know, I'm being negative about being negative).  I hate how much I attach to people.  I hate how much I don't attach to people.  I hate that there is no happy medium.  I hate that I have no social skills or the ability to be in relationships.  I hate how I ruin everything and every relationship.  I can't keep any relationships.  I've ruined a six year relationship by being really fucking crazy for the last year and a half.  I hate that I have no control over myself or my emotions and sometimes my behavior.

Monday, March 12, 2012

frosted with depression

I tease almost everybody playfully.  Make fun of little things, blow straw wrappers at them, etc...  I am almost always joking, teasing.  I think it's funny, but last night I laid on the sofa thinking about why I do that.  I kept thinking about how I am kind of an asshole.  What kind of person socializes by teasing people?  My self-esteem sucks.  It's so hard for me to have self esteem when I dislike almost everything about myself.  I don't know how to change that.  I've tried to change it my entire life, but nothing ever seems to make me feel better about myself.  I used to be a serious overachiever and I didn't feel good about myself even then, so it's incredibly hard right now.  I'm not where I thought I would be by now.  I've been waiting for my job to come back, but they keep pushing it further and further back.  I can't handle being unemployed.  I'm so bored, frustrated and broke.  It gets a bit exhausting trying to fill my time.  I want to go to grad school, but I am not sure that can happen this year.  I spent all of my savings on living expenses this past year.  I've sent my resume to so many jobs, but everything I am qualified for wants someone who is bilingual. 

Sunday, March 11, 2012


I ignored an email in my inbox since Wednesday.  I even moved it to it's own little folder so that I wouldn't see it when I checked my email.  I was finally starting to feel okay.  Strong.  A little less like I was the main ingredient in a giant pot of rancid human stew.  I didn't want to ruin that.  I didn't want to take the stability away.  Today makes 12 days without cutting.  I am not sure that is going to last.  I've been really distant and avoidant today.  My GF has been so needy and weird for a while, but it seems really intense today.  She wants to cuddle and be close all the time, like touching me or in my personal space all the time.  It feels like she's wanting something from me, and gets upset when I don't get it, but will never tell me what she wants.  Things are weird for us as it is, but she just doesn't get it.  She doesn't get me, or my crazy.  I feel like she's just waiting for me to get over it and return to normal.  I don't know how to do that.

I opened the email from LAPD containing a written interview.  The officer apologized for the basic nature of some of the questions and says that they will still need me to come in for a verbal interview in the future.  I skimmed through most of the questions.  A lot of them are really pretty basic, like my name, age, etc...  Some of them seem really unnecessary.  For some reason, one question has seriously upset me.
 "Did the offender take anything away from you?"
That question seems really weird and out of place to me, but that's not the reason it bothers me.  I really don't know why I'm so upset about it or the rest of the interview.  I have been plagued with really graphic, disturbing dreams and weird phantom physical pain.  I just want to hide and pretend none of it exists.  It's irrational and stupid that I've been hiding in my bed, thinking about dying and hurting myself all day over a stupid email interview.  What does it say about me that I can't even handle something as simple as this?  Pathetic. 

Thursday, March 8, 2012


They got 5 ponytail donations from my hair.  I cut 13 inches off.  Hair grows back.  It will grow back.  Gotta keep saying that.  They make hats.  I like hats.

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Sleep and friendship

Last night I fell asleep around 11pm and I got up at 8:30am.  I only woke up once in the night because of a nightmare.  "It's just a dream Campbell.  Go back to sleep and kick some ass instead."  That's what I said to myself, giggled, and drifted back to sleep.  That has not happened for me in years.  I took a Lunesta last night.  They did not work for me in the past and gave me horrible nightmares, but they were a miracle last night.  I woke up feeling good, like really good.  I woke up feeling happy, like giddy happy.

I got out of bed, made some hot tea, and went in my tiny little yard full of my cute little succulent collection and rocked in my hammock and sipped my tea with a warm purring kitty in my lap and a big black dog at my feet.

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

days, weeks, months, years

It has been one week since I have cut myself.  One week of resisting.  One week of healthier alternatives to cutting.

It has been one month since I lost my cat.  It still doesn't feel real that she's not here anymore.

It has been 1 month without any new difficult drama in my life.

It has been 9 weeks since I received the photos.

It has been 1 day since I let LAPD search my computer.

It has been 11 months since I last saw my little man.  11 months since I lost another family.

It has been 1 year and 10 months since I first started therapy.

It has been 3 years since I began to start to cry for the first time since I was a teenager.

It has been 53 weeks since I failed suicide.  53 weeks of still being here.

Monday, March 5, 2012

productive confidence and confusing tears

I got about three hours of sleep last night, but woke up feeling pretty good.  No nightmares.  No panic attacks.  I spent the majority of the night drawing.  Tired, awake, but okay.  I woke up this morning, hoped out of bed, gathered up my computer, and left for LAPD to drop it off for the day.  I did not have to stay while they searched my computer, which was such a relief.  I am not sure I could handle sitting in front of people, knowing the kinds of things they were searching for.  When they were done, they left my computer with someone who had nothing to do with my case.  I was grateful for that too.  Officer Good is going to let me answer questions and give a statement through email right now.  He said he may need more from me in the future, but that this okay for now.

Saturday, March 3, 2012


I'm laying in my bed listening to the snoring symphony in my room.  I can't sleep.  This is nothing new.  I was laying in bed watching the little slide show of drawing ideas in my head.  I draw.  A lot.  And I am sure it is no surprise that my drawings can be rather dark.  But I wasn't thinking of anything dark.  I was thinking about the different ways I could draw a girl pulling her houses, like the one I used for my blog.  I like the paradox of the cutesy drawing and the sad message/reality.  The ideas flowing between my ears weren't exactly unicorns and rainbows but they weren't sinister either, so there is no reason why my brain should jump to a really fucked up memory.  I was just lying in bed thinking about a mixture of stupid and brilliant drawing ideas when out pops a seriously unwanted memory. 

Friday, March 2, 2012

Just kind of "thinking outloud" randomness

I think getting the photos out of my reach was a good decision.  I am feeling a little more sane lately.  Maybe that's partly because I've been sick.  Who knows.  I haven't cut myself since Tuesday, which I know is kind of lame, but that's a long time for me right now.  I have also taken nothing but my prescribed meds, other than anti nausea medication and Advil, in a while.  My cutting has gotten to be really severe so it's been quite a struggle not to give in, especially without drugging myself.  I don't deserve any praise though because I've still been punching myself and the urges are still really strong.