Well considering I came into this year claiming that this was my year, I would leave my depression behind and sort out my life things arent going so well.

Valentines day was great except it caused a HUGE argument with one of my flatmates who was just pissed at me because I pointed out that she might be being a little bit precious (in a very non-confrontational way)

Anyway we had a huge fight which ended with her telling me to go slit my wrists (which considering we had a nice chat two days earlier about how I was making the huge decision to not self harm again and she called me brave and stuff was pretty evil.)

Of course since then Ive been extra stressed because its just like schoolyard fights and I was bullied the whole way through school and I dealt with it by getting so worked up about having to go in that it would make me physically sick.  Not something you can do with housemates. So since then everything she's doing (passive agressive) EXCEPT the "go slit your wrists" comment has made me want to self harm. I want to tell her exactly what I think of her but I know how awkward that would make it for my other flatmates.

Twice I scratched the skin off my arm and leg using just my fingernails because my boyfriend was staying and I couldnt think of a better way of doing it without anyone knowing, it just looked like a graze.  Then last night I couldnt sleep because of the argument and because I'm worried that my mom is getting surgery next week so I took 210mg of valium and half a bottle of tequila (boyfriend is worried Im just replacing self harm with alcohol)

Anyway what with alcohol being a depressant I woke up feeling shit and decided to take a hammer to my hand. Usually I bleed, I cut with knives, razors or my fingernails but today I wanted something more permanent, I just want some concern and looking after without feeling like I dont deserve it because its for depression. 

So I put a coat over my hand so that the marks wouldnt be visible and I hit my hand with the claw end of the hammer over and over.  Its swollen and purple but the doctor says its not broken (I couldnt bring myself to hit hard enough) And I've told everyone that I was moving my armchair and dropped the leg of it on my hand.

I hate lying to my boyfriend but hes already so worried about me and Im worried that theres only so much compassion and caring he can give for this depression before he cant take it anymore.