My name is Kieran Tiqvah Lee, and I self-harm because of the pain and the daemons; and as a way to keep me from killing myself.
My neck/shoulder/arm will hurt from the underlying damage and gets pins and needles (personally, it's more like wearing a glove loaded with fire ants while someone forces a needle down your arm from funny bone to wrist and tries to push up your collarbone by shoving a dagger up under your shoulder blade - dagger's the worst part) and I will become a prisoner in my bed again. I've been able to lie still during attack only for the second part of this ten-month hell - the first portion I had to keep going until I literally dropped from pain or the damage caused enough swelling to take my legs out of the picture (that was only one time it got to that point, but I am in danger of a repeat at any point in the remainder of my life - swelling near the spinal cord). They still didn't want to help me, and I legitimately believed I was going to die under their supervision.
I was 19 years old. I was under care of our nation's Army as their soldier in training. I almost died in my own country.
I have attempted suicide twice and was hospitalized the second time. The first time I was sent to a med hold company (with no one medically trained, mind, on that side of post) and they did not care whether I lived or died. One made it clear they would have preferred me dead. The second time they really wanted to help me get my life back - because it was in my hometown and I wasn't a soldier anymore.
I started cutting when the screaming got unrelenting, plaguing my every waking moment. It's nearly a hallucination. It's my screaming, I can tell you when and where the event occurred, and I can tell you how far I was from the door that could have gotten me help sooner. It's the worst night of my life, and cutting forces me back to the present day so I know where I am, when I am, and who I am. I know the screaming isn't real and I'm the only one that can hear it, but it is deafening. Steel and blood bring me back to the land of the half-alive.
I used to be a really nice person who liked to help other people out. Now I can barely take care of myself. Something as simple as walking the dog can take me out for days. I cut to keep from killing myself and to keep the pain/daemons under control. I drag myself to school twice a week because I want to be able to help people once I can get my structural problems fixed. It is beginning to physically kill me.
I want to live, I want a child, I want to grow old with someone. I just can't live like this. I can't subject a child to a mother who can't even pick them up or play with them. I don't want someone to have to look after a partner who can barely get out of bed and could injure them in the night during a nightmare/night terror. So I stay in my room all day, sit on a heating pad, take ineffective medication, try to distract myself, and cut. I walk or do a little pt/yoga stretching as much as the pain will allow me, which is growing to be less and less.
I cut to stay as close to the land of the living as I can. I cut to shove away the daemons of my past. I cut to control the pain.
Most of all, I cut to try and let out the pain of the realization that this past has turned me into a monster that only knows pain and lashes out in pain because no one can hear it screaming.
Person Woman, 20, Pain Patient, PTSD