Tag: childhood trauma
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Why We Cut Ourselves
The memory of me sitting down at ten years old, digging a hole into my leg with a knife and a needle (see yesterday’s post), feels distinct from the times I pulled blades over my arms and legs. The childhood act seems premeditated: a kid in the middle of summer, bored and looking for something…
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My First Cutting
I was somewhere around ten or eleven years old. I was very methodical about it. It was summer. My parents were outside, working in the yard. No one else was in the house. I got a small bowl of ice cubes, a pocket knife, a needle and toilet paper, sat on the floor of my…
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A Weekend Note from the Home Asylum
I’ve received emails from people, responding to posts about my recent psychotic breakdown. Some of them are friends who ask: 1. If I’m okay and 2. Do I really want to do this? Write about my mental illness? They’re concerned that it will set off another episode. They might have a point. Then there are…
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Update From the Home Asylum
It’s been a little over ten days since the crack from reality. I’m calmer now. It’s not over. It’s never over. But I’m able to read in the mornings, which is a very good sign. I’m into Yusef Komunyakaa’s collection of poetry, Neon Vernacular, which I highly recommend. Incredible Vietnam War poems, and his syntax…
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The Pattern of a Breakdown
As chaotic as madness is, there is a pattern to it. This latest episode, for instance: it really began in November, when we set the clocks back and lost an hour of sunlight. Even in Los Angeles, as we approach winter solstice, it turns dark before five o’clock. Each day in December, with its lessening…