My Addiction Overcoming my addiction was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. When most people think of addictions, they think of drugs and alcohol; I wish my addiction was something of that nature. My mental disorder--diagnosed as bipolar disorder at age 14--took me to a place where I never want to be again. My addictions were the lows I experienced and the high that came from cutting into my own skin. Most people don’t understand this. They don’t understand how one can become addicted to hurting themselves. This is a hard concept for mentally healthy people to grasp; they’ve never felt an urge like that themselves. It’s nearly impossible to wrap my own head around it. It’s a difficult feeling to qualify and quantify. The closest I’ve ever gotten to describing it was this: it’s like there is this darkness inside of you, in your veins. The only way to heal that pain is by making it physical. When pain is mental, the only treatment is medication. When pain is physical, however, it can be nursed and gotten rid of. After that injury is bandaged, you can move on and be normal again--until the pain slinks into your organs and you start to decompose from the inside again. Therefore, treating the pain becomes the addiction. Seeing blood on your hands and legs becomes the addiction. The pain becomes the addiction. …show more content…
They noticed that I wouldn’t change in a locker room. I had to go into a stall, and even then I wore sweatpants to run in 90 degree heat. Never shorts. I cringed when my legs or arms brushed against anybody or anything. I lost friends and gained whispers and stares. My mother didn’t realize until she caught me getting out of the shower one day. The scars were unmistakable. I was rushed straight to the hospital, where I was diagnosed. Weekly therapy sessions and medication ensued, but it didn’t stop the addiction. That didn’t come for two more