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Anonymous
Anonymous
It all started at the age of 13 years old. It started because of my parents divorce, I took a big knife and slammed it in my door making big holes to somehow get all this pain, agony, and anger out. Then, I just sat there not knowing what to do. Tears came to my eyes as I sat there thinking about what is to come of my life. I don't know where the thought came from but I carved 'Hi' in my leg. It wasn't like me to do that to myself. But, it had this weird way of helping the pain. I was so young I didn't know, all I knew is it helped the pain a lot.
The year I started high school which is in 1997. I was all happy and excited to go on to high school. So many new faces and it felt like I could take on the world. But, little did I know what those people were like.
In 9th grade is when my severe depression hit. It was because of so many reasons, too many to say. The people in high school were mean and rude, my parents always fought, my life wasn't happy at all, my parents were severe alcoholics and the list goes on.
I sat in my room everyday, listening to music, getting more depressed as every second flys by. Then, one late night, I remembered how I got the pain away that time before because of the divorce.
So I went and got a knife, and started carving away at my legs. Not knowing how bad this is or could become. I was a stupid teenager.
As school progressed, it got completly worse. I was seeing a counselor and a therapist. I was on anti-depressents. Everyone tried so hard to get me happy. But it wasn't them who could get me happy. It was me who can make myself happy. And it was hopeless. I hated myself and everyone around me.
When I was about 15, when I discovered how bad a razor could cut your skin. I was shaving my legs, and I got this horrible cut. All I could think about is 'Wow, if that can do that to my leg, imagine how bad I could cut myself."
The razor worked like a charm, a little too good actually. And it made everything seem so good because it was getting the pain out. I cut where people couldn't see, like my legs and hips...
I was scared to cut my wrists, because I saw so many people die or get seriously hurt from it. But, one day in 10th grade. I experimented with my wrists. When my parents found out I was almost put in a mental hospital.
I thought there was nothing bad about cutting yourself. I thought hey if i'm not hurting anyone else, it should be okay to hurt myself right? HA not....
It was 11th grade, I didn't even have a reason to cut myself anymore. I loved it, and the way it made me feel. And how the blood dripped on the floor. The blood represented the pain leaving my body. It wasn't a good solution, but hey if you do it more often, the less you feel right? The cutting got like an addiction, as bad as a drug addiction. I couldn't stop....But I didn't care about myself.
People say I cut myself for attention. No, that isn't correct at all. I know in my heart I did that to make myself feel better. I did it for my own well being, not for others to feel sorry for me. I would never do that!
(Sorry the story is so long, it feels so good to write about this.)
Since Thanksgiving of 1999, i've been being molested by my uncle. And I am not a emotionally strong person at all. So I kept all those gross feelings in, and all that hate inside for years. I got quite good at keeping my feelings in. Since last summer of 2000, he kept doing it. I felt so bad, so so bad. So taken advantage of... and I had no idea what to do. I couldn't tell anyone, because I didn't want to rip the family apart. I wanted to keep it the way it was. Didn't happen anyways. The last time he ever took advantage of me was the time my mom found out. I was sort of relieved, but scared when his brother (my dad) found out. It was going to tear up the family.
I was home alone in august of 2000. I called my mom, and she had been drinking. Didn't help. But she told my dad. I just freaked out and cried and cried, OH MY GOD. What I didn't want to happen happened. I'm going to ruin the family. So before they got there, I took that brand new razor, and slashed my arms 10 times in a row on each arm. The forearm was cut so bad, blood dripped and wouldn't stop.
I had a reality check that night. I thought to myself, look at what you did to yourself. I finally got to hug my dad though, even though our relationship was weak and we never saw each other.
I stopped cutting myself that night. The reality of the situation I was in didn't kick in. That i'd have to live with this for the rest of my life.
Everyday I have to look in the mirror and see those cuts. They are scarred and they will never go away. Its so hard to not be able to wear short sleeve shirts anymore. I always have to wear long sleeved shirts now. Again I bury the feelings of those cuts. They will always be kept in because I hate people feeling sorry for me.
I'm not proud of my cutting, i'm extremly disgusted with myself and I wish everyday I would of never done it.
So if you can help it, never ever evvvvver cut yourself. Because you'll be in my shoes and everyone elses who has experienced this tragedy.
Thanks for letting me write this! Every little bit helps.