The black dog howls. Part II

Reading over the last post (link), I know what I was going on about but I don't feel that way any more. After writing that post I was very upset, so I set about to distract myself. The guys out there may not want to read the next bit if they are put off by discussions about periods. I know most guys are...
I am currently on my period, and it's a heavy one (caused by the new coil I have). As I was sat at the computer writing that last post blood managed to leak everywhere. Any girls out there know the feeling of realising too late that your sanitray pad has leaked? And then every move you make you can feel it? Yeah, I had that feeling. For the guys out there, it's horrid. Thankfully I was still in my pyjamas (what a weird word!). Yeah, I know, it was 3pm. So what? I'm on study leave and need to be relaxed while I revise. Anyway, I whipped them off and soaked them in hot soapy water - the quicker you soak them the less chance there is of it staining. The hot water in my bedroom is scolding. Ususally I shy away from anything that hot. Today though, when my hands were scolded by the hot water, some kind of relief came from the pain. It's hard to describe, but I suppose anyone who has self-harmed knows what I'm on about. I have never self-harmed. Today was the closest I came to it though, by holding my hands in the sink full of scolding water. Suddenly I felt a whole lot better. I felt good enough to tidy my stinking room up, it took all of thirty minutes but now it looks reasonbly tidy. Granted, I'm sat next to a big bin-liner full of rubbish... But suddenly I feel a lot better. 

(By the way, guys, you can start reading again) The sinking feelings of depression have been creeping up on me for the last couple of weeks. I hate to call it by the "d-word" as all I have in my mind is an image of stupid teenagers slashing their wrists for attention. In my mind its 'the black dog' and every now and then it starts rearing its head. I went to my GP about it just over a year ago. He instantly asked me if I ever have feelings that I need to hurt myself. When I said no, he dismissed me and told me to see my college counsellor. Which I did. Let me tell you, the hardest thing I've ever done is knock on that counsellor's door. It was as if I was finally admitting that I had a problem. What did she do? She asked me what I did when I felt sad. I said I watch TV. She said that was a good thing to do. She convinced me it was a good thing to do. So I went home and every time I felt sad I watched TV. I ended up watching more than 6 hours a night. That left no time for homework assignments, socialising, talking to Sean on the phone or anything else. It left me with little time to eat. And apparently this was a good thing! It just made me feel worse and worse, caught up in missed deadlines at college and alienating myself from my friends. I never went back to that councellor. I probably should've found someone else. But I didn't. So every now and then I hear the black dog start to howl in my head and I often am capable of ignoring it.

However, today was a weird day. I found an insight into how others cope with the black dog. I think I'll still never self-harm, but I somehow have a new respect for those teenagers who slash their wrists. I'm just thankful I'm strong enough not to succumb to the attractions of hurting myself.

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