Not So Safe

       I consider my car one of my safest places. In some regards it is. My car is a place that I can go to in complete solitude when I am in a tragic state. I can just sit, but driving seems to help me. I don't have any destinations, I just drive. I can let my thoughts run, I can cry, and sometimes process whatever is pissing me off. I feel a sense of comfort in my car. I will always blast music, usually some tragic song, but it helps.

       Although I know that my car can also be detrimental. My car is a place where I am not safe. It is one of the places that I cut freely. No one is around and I am hidden. I can scream and yell. I kept a razor in my car for years. It was a reassurance to me. It made me feel like I would be okay no matter where I was at. Only recently have I removed it. I did have an incident a week ago where I was home and feeling like shit and completely distraught. Now I cannot even remember what it was that was upsetting me. It must have been bad to make me feel so low and worthless. My first instinct was my car. I grabbed a knife from the kitchen and headed to my car. I have never used a knife before. It has always been a different object. I made it to my car and sat. I knew cognitively that I didn't want to cut, I just wanted the pain to go away. I sat and cried for a long time. I tried to utilize things that would keep me occupied until the time past. In that instance I got through the situation without any self harm. I was pretty proud of myself.

     I am trying to find another place to feel safe and at peace. It is no good to anyone on the road if I am driving while I am pissed off or crying hysterically. The isolation and avoidance of everything is no good for me either. It is challenging. None of this is easy. None of it feels normal. Breaking a habit, especially one that feels like a security is fucking hard. Slowly I am trying. I have to force myself to think differently. I have to verbally tell myself out loud what I should and should not do. But I am pretty damn proud of myself when I can choose an alternative. And for the most part, the alternative works or at least prolongs the feelings and then they subside.