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In check, for now


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It has been 7 days since the last time I hurt myself. I almost don't even count the last time because it was barely anything. But I wanted to hurt myself, I set out to hurt myself, and I bled even if just for a second. It counts. Cody told me that he hopes someday I will be able to look back and say the last time I hurt myself was in the hospital with a staple.


For 7 days I've been strong enough to not hurt myself. I harmed my relationship a little on Friday because I couldn't trust myself enough to leave the house without getting new blades. I was supposed to run errands, but I just couldn't go. The thought was so overwhelming. I spent the day reading about coping skills to avoid cutting. I didn't actually use any of the coping skills, but I didn't cut either, so I think that's the only thing that really matters. 


7 days. I'm glad Cody made me call my husband before I left the hospital and have him throw away all my sharps. I don't think I would have gotten on this long without that. And that was just what he was hoping for. That I wouldn't be able to impulsively act on the desire and it would give me enough time to think about it and what I really wanted. Do I really want to spend the rest of my life hurting myself. Days like Friday I would say yes, but today I'm glad that I haven't. 

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