Rant/vent

I relapsed. I couldn't hold back the urge and tore up the razor in my luggage while headed to work. In my truck. It was like my body was craving it again. I NEEDED to..but I shouldn't have. I know the consequences to this. I know I'll have to wear long sleeves. I know that when I reach for food in the pantry, I'll have to grab the cuff of my shirt before I reach. I know that I'm going to have to figure out something for work when I cook. He's going to ask me to roll up my sleeves, and I'll have to figure out what to do. How to hide this. What my excuse will be. I can't have sex with my shirt off now, I really don't want him to know that I lose control like this at times, but it's been a year. I thought I was doing good. I thought the cravings, the urges were gone for good. I thought I could get through this, and now I'm back where I started. I feel like a failure, and he made me promise that I wouldn't. I remember feeling so confident, telling him with my head held high that I'd never hurt myself again. I'm so fucking sick in the head. Now I have to pretend to be cold for weeks until this heals. The itching from healing. It doesn't feel good anymore. It hurts now, and I deserve it. Every bit of it, for doing this to myself. After I fucking promised. What's wrong with me? Why can't I just be normal? All of these thoughts are running through my mind at the moment. I'm not going to the psych ward again. All I did was lay there like a dead animal. All they did was pump me full of drugs. I swear I would've rotted in that place if I was dead. Thank you for listening to my rant, I can't tell anyone about this. I'm going to go lay down now.