The first is the hardest

The first cut is always the hardest. I try to fight the urges, struggle desperately to keep myself from giving in to them, but eventually I lose the battle. Since I got out of the hospital I've been dealing with a lot of depression, rage and anxiety. I strongly considered checking myself back in yesterday because it all seemed more than I could stand. Instead I cut; and today I cut again.

Each time I give in, I feel like a failure. Ashamed of myself for not being able to cope. For not being able to tolerate these feelings that have haunted me nearly all my life. It shouldn't be so hard, so why is it?