It's hard to break old habits. My insecurities still creep to the surface and I see myself as I was when I was much younger - and for no fucking reason at all. It's like subconsciously I am always waiting and searching for some clue as to who's going to screw me over next so I can beat them to the punch.
The after pain of the cut was sort of therapeutic. A constant reminder that the pain I was feeling was real. That I was still there - I could still feel. And the thing is - I had control of that pain. I could decide how much to cut, when to do it, where on my body and when it would stop. It was the only thing in my life I had control over. It was my goto drug for many, many years.