[Catharsis.]

*aliens guy gesture*

As much as I respect and adore my parents, I personally find it incredulous that the people who raised me to be honest and virtuous, fail to uphold such values themselves. Like, seriously, Mam, why tell me that you want to help me recover and I can talk to you about anything blah blah blah when you treat me like this?

To explain, my mother entered my bedroom this morning, wondering where a certain moderately sharp object belonging to me had been misplaced. Inevitably, she suspected me of stashing it somewhere and using it as a self harm tool. I don't even...do you think I use everything I find for cutting? Or consider doing it? (Truth is, I kinda do, but let's pretend I don't, okie. )

Why does she expect me to talk to her about my self harm, when she has this sort of backwards, ignorant attitude towards it? And, to be brutally honest, she's pretty much clueless when it comes to this. As is Dad. I'm not going to talk to them, because the advice they give is, quite frankly, shite. While I appreciate that they (do a good job of pretending that they) try to help me, if I called Childline, and the dude(tte) at the other end of the phone said "Oh, yeah, you should give your dad all your blades, show him your arms and legs every day or you'll end up in psych ward with all the nutcases off the side of the street", I wouldn't exactly be impressed, would I?

I hate the way they try to deal with it. Taking my blades off me, removing all sharp objects, asking to see my scars...just, no. Stahp. You know nothing.

/feels