Sleep cutting

It never ceases to amaze be how the mind can be both one's best friend, protecting you from memories and images you cannot handle, and your worst enemy, allowing those memories to seep into what should be a safe place to hide.

I dreamt about that night. I was in undergrad....the first go round...

Going off to college was a culture shock. My identity had become my responsibility to my family....caring for my siblings while my mother was off living her life. I went off to college and had no clue who I was....I was alone in the world....and went a little crazy.

I started to party every night....getting labeled trouble by the "dorm mom" from the get go. I barely remember "freshman week." It's a blur of drinking, snorting, and smoking.....and the aftermath that coming down from all the highs included. My self injury was at it's peak....it was my version of a hangover.

As far as classes went, I was fine. My grades never slipped. I'm not sure how or why, but I've always managed to keep that aspect of life....studies....normal...if not exceptional.

My personal life was another story. My roommates were not help of course, all going through some sort of identity crisis of their own; enjoying their freedoms in their own way. We enjoyed going out together, but I was by far the wildest, and I'm not sure they knew quite what to do with me.

None of them knew about my cutting until one night we all came home after partying....completely wasted.... Not sure how we made it into the building. We had to check in at the front desk with "security".....they were supposed to keep a eye out for the likes of us. But somehow we did.

I decided to take a shower. We had communal restrooms. This often meant for awkwardness in the halls, especially if someone brought home a "gentleman caller." I always got a chuckle out of these encounters. I was always careful to take my clothes into the shower room, so that no one would see my......battle wounds.

One of my roommates wanted me to wait. I told her I really wanted to get in there, but I would save a stall for her. Shower time had become a sanctuary for me. My time; a time for release.

The showers were usually deserted at this hour, and tonight was no exception. I took the stall in the back....It was the most secluded...I turned on the hot water and waited for the room to steam and began to cut. I watched the streams of red glide down the drain satisfyingly. I don't remember much after that.

I must have blacked out. I vaguely remember my roommate asking if I was alright...knocking on the door...then banging....climbing under....then nothing. I had passed out.

The girls were freaked...did some basic First Aid, and put me to bed. I'd made them promise not to tell anyone, but they treated me differently after that. Like I was a porcelain doll who could crumble at any moment....

And then that night happened...This is my dream....the nightmare that crept into my dreams last night:

It was Halloween. A certain frat was having a big bash. Good fun, from what I'd heard. All they had to tell me was free drinks and I was sold. I got all tramped out....you know the look--the go-to costume for all broke college girls....a cross between a hooker and a stripper........ Classic....... I went out.

I found some friends there, who were anywhere from halfway to completely trashed by the time I found the place. I played catch up....I don't remember drinking more than two cups of jungle juice before the world began to tilt and blur. Everything was heat, motion, and music. Then nothing.


I woke up in a dark room. My underwear gone, my shirt torn, my skirt pushed up at my waste..... my head pounding and I hurt.....down there...... The party must have died already. I didn't hear anything. I got up, found a door. I was in a shed at the back of the frat property. I wandered home...confused, still tipsy.....it was cold.

I found my dorm....sat on the smoker's picnic table and lit a cigarette, trembling. I caught glimpses of the night. Flashes. A cutie leading me away. Pressing me against the wall outside....making out...I was so sleepy. Everything was intense....color...light...the sound of the music... We went inside a room........there were others....more flashes.... crying....pushing.... slapping....tugging....laughing....nothing....

This is the part that haunted me. The flashed of uncertainty flooded my dreams last night.


I passed out. "Security" woke me up.....they were just college kids doing work study hours...they made me eat pizza....the smell alone make me nauseous.....it didn't stay down....I pushed past them and stumbled to my dorm room. My roommates must have found another party....no one was home. I crawled under my desk crying. I slashed up my legs...then slept.

To quote Paul Harvey: This is "the rest of the story:"

Then the "dorm mom" woke me up. She had to "break in"....."security" was "worried about me." ........I looked like hell...she didn't say much....(I wonder to this day if my roommates told her my secret).....she didn't have a reaction to my slashed up legs.....nor did she mention the bruise on my cheek, the split lip, or bruises on my wrists and legs....there were no questions about my injuries....none at all......

I got "written up."This meant I had to go to a group therapy meeting. I had to write an essay. Slap on the wrists....stupid really..... I was just another college girl who'd had a few too many, stumbled home, and sliced herself to shreads.....

I didn't say a word at the meeting..the counselor kept trying to get me to talk....if looks could kill....he'd have died a million deaths that day.

The days slipped after that. Ran together. I felt like a black hole. Numb. Used. Alone. I went to individual counseling. Told him I wanted to die. Hated myself. Didn't see the point. I kept that night to myself. No one would believe me. I deserved it anyway.

He check me into some residential facility for an evaluation. "A safe place to think" he called it, "just for a couple of days." After meeting the psychologist they wanted me to stay. I left AMA. Told my counselor to come get me.

I waited for the year to end, keeping to myself....going out alone, wandering from party to party....drink and smoking it all away.....at summer break I moved out of the dorms. Rented a room. Did my best to disappear.....that was the beginning of my two year "high" atous. I smoked and snorted anything I could get my hands on. I went to class high, studied high, did everything high. My grades never failed me though. At least I could count on them.

I never told anyone back then. It wasn't until about a year ago when I was chatting with an old friend (a guy) who was a "dorm dad" on the floor below me that I told someone. I didn't leave out a detail. Online chatting makes that so much easier....

He knew me then...he knew my drunkenness first hand. He even made me sleep in his dorm a couple of nights to make sure I was okay. He cared. He was a gentleman.......he was shocked at my account of that night. he asked why I never told someone....."would you have believed me?" was all I could say. "I don't know....I just...don't....know...." was his reply.

...................so last night.....I dreamt about that night. The flashes...the uncertainty...the numbness....emptiness....lonliness.....I don't remember dreaming about anything after slashing my arms and legs when I got back to my dorm....only in my dream I cut and cut and cut....but couldn't feel anything....they wouldn't bleed...I kept trying and nothing....

I woke up this morning....and my thighs are a mess.....It wasn't all a dream....I couldn't see the streams of red....because I was sleep cutting.....