I really can't remember when all this started, months, years ago... Probably when I was 14 and come to think about it it terrifies me.
At A Glance Author joann Contact joann@bme.anon When Three months ago Artist me Studio home Location ath,gr The first time I remember cutting myself was after a fight with my parents, minor cuts not scars at all. But somehow I got used to it. Kind of addicted. Every time I had a fight, every time I felt depressed and lonely I would run to the sharpest object in the room and jewel my arms with fresh scars. It was more of a habit. If you asked me "why" back then I would answer "Because it takes the pain away and makes me feel alive". If you ask me now I will probably answer "Because it washes all the guilt away, because it is the only way. Because somewhere deep inside me I am starving for attention".
My parents never found out. How could they anyway. I was the smart kid... always having the highest marks in class, never causing any trouble, never letting them down. However there were fights about my music, my clothes, my hair, my appearance in general. I guess that's what stressed me so bad. The fact that I was always under pressure trying to be the best they wanted me to be and no matter what I did always failed at it... Great expectations. Still, I would never blame them for my habit. I love them more than anything else in the world.
After moving out and getting myself a place in university I started to decompose... transform myself. I got into piercings and tatts, fact that made me feel unique and proud of myself. Still does actually. Each and every one of my piercings is unique. I thought that cutting was just an old story. An old bad habit.
Then one day.... I will never forget that day... I had an awful fight with my boyfriend over the phone which resulted in breaking up with him. I never felt more lonely, despair was all over me and then it all came back. As a flash... The razors, the knifes ,the broken glass pieces. I always had some razors hidden in case of "depression emergency". It was just a matter of time before I started cutting myself that night, deep cuts from wrist to shoulder. Fierce cuts. I couldn't feel any pain just hate and the only thing I could taste was blood and tears when I tried to wipe my face. After I was done with my arms I started cutting my stomach.
A few minutes later my best friend came into my room and found me bleeding like hell. She used to be a cutter a long time ago and attempted suicide by taking pills... she knew how I felt and she didn't panic. She didn't call for help since I stopped bleeding after a while but I took a bath right after and it hurt like hell.That was the worst pain I ever felt in my entire life. No matter how much I enjoyed letting myself bleed the pain of washing away the blood from my wounds was unbearable. Trying to get dressed the next day was a nightmare since all the wounds hurt and some of them even started bleeding which made the fabric stick on my arms. For a week or so the only clothes I could wear were black shirts. Taking a shower, dressing up even trying to reach a glass were painful actions.
Looking myself in the mirror three months after that I feel stupid. I gave myself more than 50 scars that night, Most of them deep and ugly. It's summer and I have to wear long sleeve shirts. I had various relationships after that incident. At first I was afraid to undress because they would see my scars and when they did most of them just gave me disappointed looks. I am into a relationship right now and I am lucky that he understands me. However I will definately miss the sea and all the beach fun with my friends back home. No sun bathing for me this year. Soon I will have to visit my parents and find plenty stupid excuses for the scars.Some of them are still deep purple.
Nowadays , I am doing great with my life, my university, my music (I am in a band) and with my personal life but I am afraid that one day I will flip again and grab a razor. Friends suggested I should see a psychiatrist but I know it won't help. This is something I have to go through all by myself. I guess we are ourselves worst enemy.
The funny part is that I am studying psychology... People like me will depend on me after years to give them a piece of advice. Take their pain away. I just hope that I will get rid of the long sleeve shirts until then.
Still, I would never advice anyone cutting himself. Punishing myself that way never got me far. Seeing all these kids walking around with bare scarred hands makes me think. Why all this pain? For what? A broken relationship? A fight with their parents? If anyone asked me for my advice I would say that cutting solves no problem. The line between cutting and suicide is very thin and it doesn't take long before you cross that line. There is no way up... no way back.