From my perspective while journaling, this was a pathetic reason to injure myself, yet earlier in the day that reason seemed so momentous that injuring myself was the only “right” and “logical” thing to do.Īnother part of my hatred came from my repeated use of self-harm as a coping mechanism. I thought not having the wi-fi set up in my apartment would make me look incompetent and rude to my new roommate. I hurt myself because there was a delay in the installation of wireless Internet in my apartment. Part of my hatred of myself came from the reasons I harmed myself that day. I was praying to God for relief from my misery as I hurt myself. I could not see that I was putting myself through a misery that God would never want me to experience. I was praying to God for relief from my misery as I did so. The same day I wrote the intentionally vague line in my journal-I hurt myself and was cruel to myself-I had also sunk my nails into my calves until I drew blood. Even in the privacy of my journal, and even to God in prayer, I could not bear to write down the fact that, over the past several months, when I felt extremely stressed, overwhelmed or frustrated, I had started slapping myself. Part of hating myself came from my inability to be honest about what I had done to myself that morning. I also want to remind him that he has always been, is, and always will be loved unconditionally by God, a truth that is easier for his future self to accept. I wish I could reach out to myself across time and tell him that life will get better as he asks for help. Reading those lines now makes me pensive, sorrowful and a little scared. I wish I could reach out to myself across time and tell him that life will get better. I also made one short note with a minus sign next to it: “I hurt myself this morning and was cruel to myself. I had a list of things to do the next day: meet with a former professor and now colleague to go over my syllabus, finish my syllabus, and write a letter to a friend. The WiFi in our apartment had been installed after a delay of a couple weeks. There were reasons for gratitude: I went to a riverside concert with my roommate. I opened my small maroon journal and began my regular practice of reflecting on the day that had passed. Late last summer I was settling into a new apartment and into a routine of preparation for my first time teaching introductory theology at a Catholic liberal arts college in northeastern Wisconsin.
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