Thoughts of self-harm consume me for hours on end each day, but I can't seem to muster the courage to follow through. Growing up in an abusive household has left me feeling lost and unsure how to truly live. Instead, I've spent my life dissociating and retreating into my own world whenever things get too overwhelming. I even take sleeping medication during the day to escape the pain.

After years of being physically punished, I sometimes feel like I deserve to feel physical pain, even if I'm the one inflicting it. It's a twisted form of self-punishment that I can't seem to break free from. In some ways, the physical pain is better than feeling nothing at all. Self-harm helps me feel more human, reminding me that I'm still capable of experiencing emotions.

I don't know how to explain what's happening in my mind.

For a long time now, the idea of pain has made me feel... something. Excitement. Or maybe adrenaline. Back when I did self harm, it felt like I deserved it. Like I I was fixing something that is wrong. It felt like it's fair. It felt satisfying.

I stopped three years ago. I made a promise and kept it. I've been cut free for three years, three months and 20 days.

Still, when the pressure gets too much, when I'm stressed, when I make a mistake at anything, the urge keeps coming back.

Since the idea of pain excited me, I got to learn about BDSM. I've read a lot and got to know what I do and don't like. In theory.

Lately, I joined my local BDSM community, hoping I might feel less like a freak for being a masochist after meeting the people there. One problem that occurred is that I'm also asexual and sex-repulsed. And they don't seem to be able to wrap their mind around the concept of being a sub and a masochist AND sex-repulsed at the same time.

(Really, it's not that complicated: I don't need to be naked in order to be tied up, beaten and then praised for how well I took it. And I couldn't care less if the person doing it was a man, a woman or non-binary, as long as I got the sensation.)

Since I've joined the community, I've felt worse than before. I feel like a freak, because what kind of a person wants to be in pain? I feel broken, because what kind of a person doesn't like sex?

The answer is me. I'm this broken freak.

After all of this, my mind is a mess. I don't know what to think or how to deal with all of these mixed up feelings and desires.

I know I'm broken. I have trust issues, which is automatically a huge no-no when it comes to BDSM. It's all about trust and communication, and setting boundaries. I can't do any of this.

My brain refuses to let anyone see me as the wreak I really am. But a part of me wants to be seen as just that. I'm so tired of having to be in control of my every word, every action, every thought, just because of "what people will think". I don't want to be anyone's child or sibling or colleague, I don't want to be responsible and smart and strong. I'm only human, goddammit it! I want to break down and know that I'm allowed to!

There is a special kind of freedom that comes with being powerless. When you realise you have no control and nothing depends on you, when you surrender. You can't do anything wrong when you can't move. You can't say anything wrong if you can't speak. And if you cry, if you scream while being beaten, when there are actual bruises on your skin afterwards, nobody will tell you that your pain isn't real or that it's all in your head.

Maybe the only reason I got into BDSM was because I saw "sadism and masochism" and thought "I'm not the only one, there are other freaks that want to be in pain and who would cause pain". But if you remove the sex from it, is it really the same thing? If they all see the pain as a warm-up, as a foreplay before having sex in the end, then what am I even doing there?

Am I just relapsing in a different way, trying to use BDSM as a substitute for self harm with the exact same results?

I haven't done anything with anyone yet, and most likely I never will. But in case I do... will I be breaking my promise? Will I be using it as a loophole to self harm?

What should I do with this mess I am?

I started self-harming at a young age, since then I've learned to disguise it well. It became easy to lie about the scars and bruises, to hide them until they look healed, it's all part of the routine now.

While I also can restrain myself pretty well, I chose continue doing it in moderation after a year streak without selfharm for the reason of me sometimes becoming so emotionally numb only some sharp self-induced physical pain would finally let me cry.

I want someone to know what I've been going through, but I don't want to tell them. Masking my mental health issues became inseparable from my understanding of relationships, can't even imagine having a conversation about it.

I also want you to know that I can't afford therapy, never been there, don't know what it's like. I am well aware that I probably have severe depression and other issues that require medical treatment, but It's pointless without consistent therapy sessions.

Thanks to everyone who read through this, I hope you're doing okay.

Boyfriend convinced me to go to the swimming pool with him in a bikini swimsuit. I haven’t done it for many years, and it was painful. As a teenager, I self-harmed a lot, and the scars on my forearm and my right leg never healed completely. They draw attention, even though I tried to make them less visible. I find myself feeling uneasy whenever I have to wear anything that even slightly reveals my scars, especially on the arms, where they can’t be for any normal reasons. For years I’ve been wearing hoodies and a long-sleeved swimsuit just because I don’t want to deal with explanations. My boyfriend has seen them all many times, and he can’t understand what’s so horrible. He told me he likes me with all my imperfections, and I love him for that. But other people ask things like, "Oh, what’s happened to you” each time I allow myself to wear a T-shirt in the summer.

The same thing happened this time, of course. We came across my boyfriend’s pals in the gym, and one of them stared at my forearm, then made a comment about not knowing we liked it rough. It was so intrusive! My boyfriend laughed in reply, and then spent the next ten minutes being nice to me, as he saw the look on my face…

I know self-injury is taboo, but I’d prefer people not to stare, especially not to ask stupid questions or make tasteless comments. Most people are probably just curious, but it's a sensitive topic that I'm not comfortable discussing. These scars serve as a constant reminder of the pain I once went through. It's not something I like to dwell on, nor do I want to relive those moments. I’ll have to hide these ugly marks for the rest of my life. That guy might never see me again, but I’ll always remember what he said. And I told my boyfriend I'd never wear a bikini again. I wish people would understand that it's a deeply personal and difficult subject. I'm trying to move forward and heal, but these reminders make it impossible to let go. I wonder if I am the only one caring about my scars so much?