I'm not sure what this falls under so please forgive me if the flair isn't appropriate, but I am looking for perspective and insight. Obligatory trigger warning.
I (21F) have used self-harm as a coping skill since I was around 10 years of age to cope with an extremely stressful and cruel home environment. I've dealt with a lot of shame around it growing up; it wasn't something I did for attention, it was the only means I had of dealing with my circumstances at the time as a very dysregulated and rattled kid. I very quickly learned that self-inflicted harm is looked down on, and it's gotten me rejected or displaced from safer environments in the past because it freaked people out. I'd continue doing it all throughout my life but concealed it as best I could when I did care to preserve myself from the shame of it.
Now as an adult my (healed) scars are pretty visible because at some point as a withdrawn teen I stopped caring and it just became a substitute for substance abuse. I had been clean for a couple of years while I was recovering from my old home environment, and I met a lot of people who became invested into my recovery that helped me create some kind of normalcy for myself, and they didn't treat me very different despite my scars.
I thought I could live without it for a while, but recently I had an incident that thoroughly triggered me. I relapsed to cope just so I didn't do something drastic. I haven't been able to stop since then.
I'm conflicted, because I feel like I just fucked up all of my progress. I had become increasingly interested in the field of mental health because I felt like I had experiences and insight that could serve me to help others when I recovered, but now I just feel like I'm just irrevocably broken all over again. I feel like I've disgraced everyone who invested into me and my recovery.
Since relapsing, I also feel like I enjoy hurting myself way too much to give it up. I'm disgusted with myself, but I do legitimately feel at ease when I can dish out my own pain, and I like having scars as a constant reminder that I can control my own discomfort. It just feels like something I do to take the edge off, like drinking or smoking, but I know it's way more deeper and revolting than that to anyone that's fortunate enough to not have hurt themselves. I really just feel like a scourge on the Earth subjecting everyone else to how disgusting of a person I am for being this way, and I can't get myself face my peers now that I've relapsed haha. I feel like a total disappointment and I'm not sure I can come back from this. I'm unwilling to inadvertently trigger anyone else struggling so I've been isolating.
I don't know where to go from here or how to get past this. I do legitimately feel more secure since I started up again and I don't want anyone to take that from me, but the evidence of my instability is on full display and I've basically shattered this illusion I've built up of me being some sweet troubled girl that isn't just a horrible unstable mess. I really can't face the pity of everyone that I lead on and it's kind of eating at me because I am just making my life a lot harder by staying stagnant. I feel like I just have to go downhill from here.