As a child I learned that when I am hurting, pain takes the ache away.

Yes, pain, makes the pain more bearable.

Pain is a release.

Sometimes pain is so loud that I think “If I could just feel something else… something stronger… maybe this would stop.”

But in all honesty, it’s more about punishing myself. In moments of pain, I realize that I am unworthy, unlovable, unwanted. I must be to be feeling so much pain. So, I embrace it. Accept the pain, welcome the pain, and most of the time, cause the pain. Because in a weird sort of way, it’s better for me to inflict the pain on myself than to hurt by someone else’s hands; for I’ve known that pain too many times. And that pain, it hurts differently. It’s pain that doesn’t go away just because you cry. It’s pain that doesn’t go away because you bleed. It’s pain that doesn’t stop because you scream. It’s pain that doesn’t end just because you beg it to. It’s pain that continues aching even when I’m left all alone. It’s pain that leaves me sweating in my bed. It’s pain that leaves me tense. It’s pain that leaves me wanting someone to come to my rescue. But no one comes. No one saves me. So, I learn to soothe myself. Except the only soothing that I know is pain.

Maybe if I hurt myself bad enough then I won’t feel the pain others are inflicting.

Maybe if I bleed enough the pain will lessen.

Maybe if I cry the pain will leave.

But it doesn’t.

It multiplies.

The shame crashes over me like waves.

Now, I have even more reason to cause myself pain.

“What is wrong with me?” {more pain}

“You are so stupid.” {more pain}

“No one can protect you.” {more pain}

“You are all alone.” {more pain}

“All you’re good for is pain.” {more pain}