Dear those who don't understand,
At A Glance Author Red Orchid When N/A I guess this is hard for me, finally admitting that I have a problem. I still don't think that's what it is but everyone seems to think so. I've been having a Self-Inflicted Violence problem, or SIV for short, since I was around five years old. I never really noticed it because I never thought it was anything wrong. Until just recently I thought what I was doing was something I had just picked up a year ago but, I've never been more wrong. When I was little I use to bite my skin until it bled. I didn't stop because no one told me that it was wrong. I also use to push my fingers into my eyes because I liked the way it felt. I know this might seem like something someone would notice but no one did so I just kept going. When you're little like that and you do something wrong but no one tells you to stop you'll just keep going. I didn't know any better and slowly it just faded into the back of my mind and became a problem.
As I got older I became more suicidal than anyone my age, partly because I was around ten. I hated living, it was too hard for me, my mother would force things on me like sports that I hated and just yell at me. The second I got home I had to go straight to my home work even though I had just spent around six hours at school and I was too brain dead to do anything. And if I didn't understand something I got yelled at. I know that this just seems normal but I didn't think so. So I grew up hating my mom and hating life. I later had to go therapy for this because I just hated life. My cutting addition became more of a problem but I just wore a jacket so no one would see. After they told me I was just depressed and that I'm fine I believed them, but they never even saw my scars. That wasn't a problem though because I didn't want them to.
Sixth grade I was preppy, seventh grade I worshiped Satan, and eight grade I was a punk. But no matter what I was I always would cut my self. One time I tried telling my mom that I had a problem in the eight grade but she didn't believe me. She told me I just wanted attention so I just left it alone. Then my parents got a divorce, it didn't bother me too much because my father was never home anyway. I also now had a reason to cut, so if someone asked my the one word question "why?" I could just say "my parents got a divorce" and they'd leave it alone. But deep down inside I knew that wasn't the reason. It would be another year of cuts before I knew.
In ninth grade I got my personality straight and those around me viewed me as normal. This was important to my mother because I was starting high school and she wanted me to blend in. I still hid my arms in jackets and long sleeves but now I had another problem that I got over the summer. I had a pill popping addiction along with a caffeine addiction, I got over the caffeine one rather fast but I couldn't get over the pills. The pills became something that I enjoyed doing along with the cutting. No one seemed to understand why I would do any of this. I had a rich daddy who would by me anything I wanted, friends, a boyfriend who loved me, a huge room with my own master bath, two computers for only me, amazing artistic abilities, and anything else I wanted. I heard people talk about how it was stupid to cut your self and things like that, and my father told me that nothing should ever be that bad for you to do something like that. I found that ironic in the sense that he was preaching to me about being around when he was never. Even when my parents were married he was never around, but I just nodded and then quickly change the subject.
I didn't know why I did any of this and I heard stuff like "cutters what attention" or "they're insane". I also heard stuff like "they had low self esteem" and "it's the music". I do have a low self-esteem and I do listen to some music that is a bit on the strange side but some how I knew that wasn't it. So I just wrote it off, as I'm insane. My boyfriend, Ryan, would tell me I wasn't and that other people did it too. But I didn't know any of them so I just didn't believe him. As time went on it just kept getting worse, it got to the point where I would slice up my whole arm and take twelve pills then go to bed an hope I don't wake up. I always did though, because I got an immunity to the pills and I never cut deep enough. So naturally I took more and cut deeper. I soon loved the feel of the cold blade against my skin and the pills began to taste like candy. It scared my boyfriend to death so I tried to quit for him; needless to say it never worked. I always broke down when ever he would spend time with anyone else. This added to my depression because I would make up horrible scenarios in my head such has him getting bored with me or finding someone else. And soon those became my reality in my eyes. I worried about it all the time and I thought it was happening.
Shortly after cutting became a major part of my life I found out why I did it. I was listening to one of my favorite songs when it hit me like a bag of bricks. The song was Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls. And the line was 'you bleed just to know you're alive'. It finally made since to me. I cut my self not out of an act for attention or suicide, I did it to feel alive. My whole world suddenly was clear again and I felt normal for the first time in years. I had become numb from the world, I shut out my friends, family, and I hardly let my boyfriend in. I didn't feel real or alive anymore so when I cut and I felt the pain it showed me that I was and that I was very capable of feeling. Then once that door was open it shed light on all the other reason. My skin was like an empty storybook and the cuts and scars were the words. My skin told the stories that I couldn't. It showed the emotions that I was feeling inside that no one understood. I was cutting because I was in pain on the inside but no one knew how bad it was except me and I had a problem with telling people. So I would just cut it into my skin to show them, but I never let them see. I didn't want them to think I was just crazy or some attention craver. But the worse the emotional hurt the more cuts I caused. Another thing was that I never cried when I did it. If I did cry it was from the emotional hurt, not the physical. I loved the feeling of when my skin was cut, I felt liberated. It was like I didn't need to cry because my skin did it for me. It also made me feel safe because, if I hurt my self no one else would. Cutting had become my safe haven and my most artistic form of showing how I felt.
When I quit cutting I felt scared and alone. I had to sleep with the light on, and I couldn't be alone at anytime. Silence became something that terrified me beyond all reason. But once I did cut my self I felt safe, I could sleep in the dark and I didn't need noise. People don't understand this, they don't understand how I could enjoy my pain. But to me it makes perfect since, I'm not asking them to agree with it I just want them to try to understand. I know I've got a problem that needs to be addressed as soon as possible but, I also know that this is something I've grown to love. It started when I was five and just became a major part of me. I've realized that I can't just stop and throw away my blades because that's what causes me to be paranoid and scared all the time. I also know that you can't just drag me off to church because it wont do anything except make me crave my blades more. You can't force your religion upon other people; especially those who don't want to hear it. In the seventh grade I made up my mind and knew religion wasn't my salvation, it wasn't my escape. It might be for other people, but not me. I loved my tarot cards and magic too much to give them up. So when my mother tried to force god on me because I was "demonic" it just backfired and my cutting became worse. Pills are something I can stop though. I take painkillers by the dozen, literally. And the only reason I do this is because it's another way of getting rid of my emotional pain. If my body hurts when I'm sad and the pills help it go away its obvious that I'll take them. People don't understand why, though.
I'm not depressed all the time, many people think that if you cut then you're depressed or that you're obsessive compulsive. But everyone gets depressed and everyone has a tad bit of obsessive compulsive. I might have a bit more than the normal limit of OC but I know I'm not the only one who uses their foot to flush the toilet at a public bathroom. If people don't understand me and my cutting that's not my fault, that's their own. Its up to them to try to understand why, if they continue to say things like "there's no point in it" then that's not my fault. You really do have to walk a mile in a cutters shoes to understand, or in this case, their skin. There are people who are crazy who cut, but those are the people that cutters are stereotyped by. If someone is a cutter then they're automatically called crazy but that's not how it works. Also there are people who cut for attention, but that only shows the flaws in today's culture. Some teenagers think its cool to be a cutter because they've seen their friends doing it but their friends wouldn't be doing it if people had only seen the story on their skin.
I guess I wrote this in hopes that someone who doesn't understand finally will. I know its long and repetitive but I want to make sure my point gets across. Most of us aren't crazy, were not looking for attention, we don't want your help, but we need it. It is a problem, I know this, I'm not trying to sugar coat it so you'll agree. I'm trying to help you understand. Most cutters don't think its wrong, and they don't even know that other people do it. They feel inferior to those who put it down because they think that it's automatically wrong. I read an article that called it a major problem, and that those who cut are mentally unstable and need to get medical and mental help right away. When I read that it made me feel like an outcast and that I wasn't good enough but I read another article that said that cutters aren't crazy and that it was almost like an addiction. It is like an addiction to me at least. I'm addicted to the way it makes me feel safe, to the way I feel alive, to the way others can see my emotions, and to the way it allows me to feel in control of my self. If there is someone you know who you think cuts or you know they cut don't write them off as crazy or attention craving. Ask them why but don't be scared of them, they're people too. Most cutters cut for the same reasons I do, to feel alive, show emotion, and be in control. Let them explain it to you and keep an open mind, but try not to miss the story on the skin.
Sincerely,
Red Orchid