I used to be a cutter when I was fifteen years old. I started because I was so angry and hurt and I could not seem to release it any other way. Nothing made sense to me, the world, school, puberty. I just wanted a way around all the pain. I was sinking low. I felt like my parents did not care and did not want me to have any fun. I was extremely depressed but I would not take my pills every day because I did not believe they worked and or course they did not work because I did not take them.
At A Glance Author anonymous Contact anonymous@bme.anon When N/A It started out as attention and I did it was my friend on the phone. I wanted to feel like somebody cared about me, but I noticed when I did it, my problems sort of eased down and did not seem so bad. My friend of course did not take it well and did her best to stop me. After that first time, I never told anybody. It became a secret and I became embarrassed and wore long sleeves.
That is when the habit began. I did not make new scars though. I would re-open the same ones and so I only have five scars on each arm but it seemed to be so much more effective that way. I started doing it every night each time thinking it would be my last. Watching the blood run down my arms was satisfying. I was proving to myself that I could hurt myself more than any other person, that I had complete control over myself, or so I thought. I remember concentrating so hard, tears running down my cheeks, wondering why the world was so terrible and why God chose me to disrupt.
The last night that I did it was the night my parents sent me away and was the end of that habit. My parents found out about a week before I left. We were shopping and I went to scratch my arms and that is when they saw. It broke their heart to see what their baby was doing to herself. You see, my parents never really understood. My mom grew up in an easy life. She did not get into any trouble. She worked all the time. I think my dad did more but he will not tell me. So it was very scary for my mom to see this, and all she could think of was what she had done wrong? My parents were as supportive as they could possibly be. They did what they could. They just had not been through anything that I went through, therefore could not relate. When I got to my boarding school in Mexico, I had big bloody messes on my arms and everybody knew what they were because I was not the only one there that had done it.
For 2 years I lived in a boarding school in Mexico and there were times when I just wanted to scratch my face and tear it to pieces just to let the pain out. The drama was terrible and the rules were so strict. I missed my parents and was never allowed to see them or even talk to them. I hated them when I was at home but the truth was, I was still way too dependent on them and I felt like I was going to die without them. It also affected them. My mom went to the hospital because she was so stressed out about me and missed me so much that she could not stop throwing up and got dehydrated. When I was at home, I felt like there was no other way to get it out other than to cut myself to pieces, however I found out that there is. I found it and everyone has to find it for themselves.
Everyone has a passion, something that they love to do or be around. My passion is animals and my pets are what keep me going. Find what it is that makes you happy and do that particular thing more and more. My scars have faded some but they are still there. In a way I am glad because I do not regret doing it. I do not regret anything in my past, it made me who iI am today. I do not go and show them off or anything but I look at them and I go back to those hard days and it makes me so happy to see how far I have come with myself. Everyone has strength and when things seem too hard to handle, just remember that nothing is impossible and you can do anything that your heart desires. Do not turn to cutting. Good luck to all who are going through difficult times.