Two years ago today I took a blade to my wrist for the last time. This isn’t because it was the last time I wanted to take a blade to my wrist, oh no, the last time I wanted to was last week. But two years ago today was the last time I did, and I pray to God, the last time I ever will.

The thing about self-harm is that I didn’t do it to hurt myself- I did it to make myself feel better. I know some people do it because the physical pain is easier to deal with and quantify than the emotional pain. For me, it was never like that. I cut my wrist to feel better about myself as a person. I still feel the need to hurt myself to feel better about who I am. When I feel like a bad person—that I’ve hurt someone or have done something wrong to another—I feel the desire to cut. Because, surely, if I inflict the pain on myself that I’ve cause another then I will have balanced out my misdeeds.

The only issue with this is that, frequently, the hurt I think I caused didn’t actually exist. Every minor slip up, every minuscule issue I perceived sent me crashing. How could I live with myself if I didn’t balance out my karmic credit within the world? The answer was that I couldn’t. I cut in order to make that perceived moral debt even again.

These days when I get these feelings I like to analyze the situation. What did I do wrong? Why did I do it? How can I talk to the person I think I’ve hurt and gauge how they’re actually feeling? How can I make it up to them? Karmic debts can be payed with more than bloodshed. . . so I’ve come to discover. The best way to do this is usually to admit wrongdoing and apologize. This doesn’t always make me feel better. I think this is a rather shitty way to solve my problems of self-loathing at any and all wrong doing.

This then requires me to find other ways of coping with my decisions and actions. Lately my favorite way to do such is the obsess over my little family of succulents: Harold, Stacia, Phoebe, Monica, and Rachel (yes there is a Friends theme in there). I also enjoy coloring, which, admittedly, is slightly juvenile, but it works so who cares? Two years ago I never would have been able to accept, or even think, that something so simple could replace self-harm. And maybe two years ago it wouldn’t have worked. I was a different person then. I was unmedicated, over my head buried in activities to absorb my time and thoughts, unable to come to terms with my past, and most of all, dishonest with myself and everyone around me.

These days I’m okay with not doing everything (and being the best in everything I do), with taking time to myself, and loving myself for all my flaws and mistakes. I like to think I’m pretty cool and am a pretty good person. In recent months I’ve learned it’s okay to be proud of yourself and to brag about your accomplishments- especially when it comes to recovery and mental health wins. No matter how small they seem. Even if I don’t quite manage to do the healthy thing, but do resist the urge to take a step backwards, I like to reward myself and praise my actions. Give myself a theoretical pat on the back (or an literal cupcake) for my positive actions.

Not going backwards is the equivalent to a forward step when it comes to mental health.

So go me. I’ll be having a cupcake in celebration of my victory, and toasting to me today. Something I’ve learned is 100% okay and good for continuous forward movement. Here’s to the next year of being clean and loving who I am.