Psyke.org

Brittany

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Copyright Brittany

OK, so here it goes. This is hard for me to explain, let alone talk about. I can’t remember the first time I cut, or even why, which is a bit pathetic if you ask me, but that’s basically what I consider myself — pathetic. I don’t even know where things started to go wrong, over time little by little things in my life started to change, and after a while when I couldn’t cope with my mental pain, I turned it into physical. Two years ago, in 7th grade my sister had plans to get married to some total weird guy who was living in Australia, now keep in mind I live I the United States, even weirder they met in Europe. For my whole 7th grade year my life revolved around my sister’s wedding. Everything was so stressful; my mom stopped paying attention to me like I’ve always had. Not to sound selfish, but everything and anything was about my sister, and her wedding and her new husband of course. That’s what really set me off, it’s not like I’m the most self centered girl in the world, but I was changing and no one noticed, I had a crush on this amazing boy, soon to be my boyfriend for a year and a half until we broke up completely on our formal night. But here and there, I started putting rubber bands on my wrists, and smashing them and slinging them back to my wrists, and they would slice a couple of times, the first sight of the blood running down my wrist was this great overwhelming feeling of energy. It was finally my way of getting rid of my anger from all the commotion in my family. Once 8th grade came, I fell so deeply in love with my boyfriend after him being my best friend for two years, who was actually my best friends, best friend. Strange how that one worked out. I had an amazing group of some few friends and we did everything together, I have to admit I had a lot of fun. My boyfriend and I started breaking up on and off around the holidays, where one of my truly good friends in that so called ‘group’ of ours was having the same boy problems as me. I tried and experienced new stuff with my boyfriend, foreplay and oral and immediately fell in love with that, not only because it was with him and intimate, but my problems started fading away when such things would happen, I felt as if I was in a whole new world, it started becoming daily and up to three times a week where my boyfriend and I would be ‘sexually active’ without having sex, I was offered more than once in my time of going out with him but something always set me back.

Then, he cheated on me, more then once — one time, I was literally down the next hallway in our own school, but I was so much in love — I let it go, while he was letting me go. Instead of letting him go, like he wanted I let some of my really good friends go, ‘the group’ that was so close and best friends, I started breaking away from little by little — they aggravated me, because I was the only one having problems, big problems, and I started listening to different music, I stopped talking as much, etc. I just wasn’t happy with anything. One of my best friends now, her and I got extremely close during all of this, I hate to say it was because my boyfriend’s best friend, was ‘with her’ for fun, and we ended up always being over there — but even now after my boyfriend and I broke up, and his best friend and my best friend stopped their flings, were still as close, I’m so lucky. My boyfriend, started having feelings for that ‘truly good friend’ (from before) and please, don’t get me wrong she’s a great girl, I should know I was best friends with her for a while, that was before I broke away and needed to get out which was my fault and I’m not sure if it was the greatest decision, but I’ve had worse. I cut, I burned, I rubber banded, I did everything in my power to not face the truth and what was wrong with me I just hid it under other pain.

But you see, this story gets more involved. About two or three months ago, my ex-boyfriend, broke up with his current one, and we were ‘hanging out’ one day, which turned into probably the not smartest decision I’ve made, we had sex. I’d rather not get into how it happened, or why, or when and all that the major point was — we had unprotected sex. A big mistake, that night he hooked up with a girl (not his ex-girlfriend either) but a younger girl than me, and thought nothing of it. Sooner or later, I didn’t get my period and who did I run to? My ex. One of the stupidest things I have ever done, probably more stupid than actually having the sex, because honestly I don’t regret having sex I loved him, a lot. I know this feeling didn’t run vice versa but there comes worse problems. I was fertilized after about two weeks or so. Luckily, my aunt is a nurse in the maternity department and I was forced to make a choice, and he and I agreed to give up our baby because we were too young. Before this, I wasn’t SI ing for a couple of months but I just didn’t know what to do after killing an innocent egg in my body that didn’t do anything wrong. My ex-boyfriend and I were the cause of the baby, and yet we weren’t the ones who died, and we both know that.

The past month I’ve used anything to cut anywhere not noticeable, my thighs for the most part, I’ve used the edge of tables if I was really desperate and needed to release stress, but — razor blades, knifes, scissors, safety pins. I figured out I was really bad when I became suicidal one night in New York, where I was to see one of my friends and a counselling program which has been said to be really good there, but, it sucked. By this time, I woke up and cut, I ate lunch and afterwards I would cut, I would shower and slice something while I was shaving and I went to bed, and I cut. One night, I sat in the bathroom tub, filled up with water and four or five knifes around me and was ready to go, until I realized I hadn’t said goodbye to one of my best friends who had been calling me all week in New York but I was ignoring anyone from New Jersey. Getting to the point, I called him and told him I loved him and I was sorry, only getting for me to hear him say ‘hello’ I was ready to go, 12:00 on the dot was my deadline and it was 11:53. He called back, of course — I answered needing to hear him more than a simple hello, and he’s been there for me and throughout everything for a while I could not hear what he had to say. Sooner or later, it was 12:50, and I was 50 minutes behind and still alive, however still sitting in the bathtub. And in the long run of the conversation I was threatened with the police on the other line. I couldn’t help but ruin his life too, so I didn’t, and sometimes I don’t know whether to thank him, or hate him.

No one understands what cutting can do to a person, even if it’s not deep, because once my scars heal, I tend to cut right over them. Unless you are a cutter, a burner, a rubberbander or anything to get rid of your mental pain with physical, you could possibly not understand. When you are doing any of these things people who don’t have to understand that when you do not know what’s wrong with you, and you feel as if you need something to get you through the day, to see if the next days a better one, when you cut, you can honestly say to yourself: ‘Wow, you know what? My thigh hurts because I took a steak knife and cut it so it would bleed.’ It feels great to know what’s wrong with you for a change instead of feeling lost and confused in what we called this world.

As of now, I don’t even know whats wrong with me, I know I once had an amazing life, then I started dropping all my friends and slowly moving apart, my boyfriend and I broke up, then had sex, I had a fertilized baby in my tummy that was soon to be gone, my ex-boyfriend and I started fighting, I starting cutting, I got caught and went for help, I stopped going on the computer to help the ‘drama’ issue be calmer, of course that didn’t work, does it ever? I stopped going out, to see anyone but one of my really close friends whom I can’t thanks enough for being there with me through everything. One day, it will soon be better though and this website, how amazing. I have honestly been sitting here for hours reading other people’s problems, and quiet frankly, I shouldn’t be complaining about my life, there are so many others are just so ungrateful and such terrible things made them become who they are, but maybe that’s how they were supposed to be? I’m so sorry to everyone about everything and I’m not much help considering how I handle things. No one really knows, anything that is.

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Copyright Brittany

I started cutting at the begining of my 7th grade year. Before my 7th grade year my life was good but once I hit 7th grade is when it started getting back and ever since then it’s been going down hill even more. Now I’m a freshman and I still do it. I don’t do it as much as I did before because I got help and then I quit but I started up again. My 8th grdae year wasn’t as bad as this one and 7th grade. In 8th grade I had a lot of friends and an awesome boyfriend. We started going out in track and we went out till almost the middle of my freshman year but it got all messed up and that’s when it started going down hill. After we broke up it took me a while to get happy again so I did it more and more every day and then I OD’ed and ended up in the hospital. Luckily I survived. A little after I did this which was homecoming I found someone I really liked and we started hanging out and then we started dating. A couple months after all this happend we weren’t allowed to see each other because of something stupid and while we were dating he found out about me trying cutting and he said that he wanted me to stop and I did because I liked him a lot so after we weren’t allowed to see eachother I did it more and more each day and the cuts got worse and worse. And to this day I still do it. I don’t think it’s wrong to do it but to some people it does. I do it because it takes the pain away and it makes me happy I guess you can say.

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Copyright Brittany

I was four years old, I lived in an apartment and my brother had this friend named Nick. He and my brother were pretty good friends, but one thing that he didn’t tell my brother was that he was raping me at least two times a week. I didn’t know it was wrong, I didn’t know it was right. But I thought if I don’t let him do this he won’t love me anymore… I’ve had dreams ever since, when I was young I would go into my closet and bang my head on the wall. I would slam doors on my ribs and stuff until it was really hard to breathe. When I was ten on Christmas my grandmother told me she thought that I was raped, I didn’t know I was but I had a feeling, you know, with all the nightmares and not being able to fully trust anyone except my brother. He had moved out to live with his dad when I was eight. My parents started fighting way more, they had already been doing that a lot ever since I could remember. My brother would be there for me. The only person I knew I could trust had to leave. I wanted to die at eight years old. My life was kind of crappy, I wasn’t very popular or anything, I was kind of chubby and stuff but I had “boyfriends” no problem. I thought I was ugly. In 5th grade I started cutting on my legs and wrists, nobody knew or even suspected anything until 7th grade. I thought my parents didn’t even care, two years and they hadn’t noticed the gashes in my arms or legs. Made me think what great parents they are to not notice that I cry blood. I’m in 8th grade now. I still cut sometimes, I can’t help it, it keeps me alive. I go to therapy and stuff for it but I need it. This is what helps me. My boyfriend wants me to not do it, but why would he care? I don’t think he loves me like he says he does. I don’t know anymore about anything.

Feel Good Pain

Copyright Brittany

When I feel pleasure instead of pain when I cut I start to feel punished and then all my problems will be drained away with my blood. It’s comforting to watch my problems all drown in my blood, but then I realise my beautiful escape away from reality is more like a self sacrifice to feel pleasure. Cutting ruined my reality. Don’t let it ruin yours too.

Me

Copyright Brittany

I started cutting when I was fourteen years old. I started cutting because when I was fourteen I was raped and I blamed myself for that. It was my own decision to skip school and go out with this guy who I didn’t even know. I didn’t tell anyone about me being raped until about four months later and the person I told was my brother who was eighteen at the time. I also told him that I had been cutting myself too and I showed him the cuts and the scars that were all over my body. I was scared to tell him about me cutting because I thought he would tell my parents or call me a ‘freak’, but he didn’t. He told me that he understood and that he wasn’t going to judge me. After I told my brother I decided to tell only my real good friends, but when I told them they just said I was crazy. For once I just wish that my friends would understand me and where I am coming from before they judge me.

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Copyright, Brittany

I have been a cutter for going on 4 years. I just this year told my parents my unexplained coping mechanism. At fist they blamed themselves especially my mom, my siblings think I do it for attention. I wish there was a way for them to understand it’s not them and it’s not attention that I want. To me it’s a release to problems I have been faced with.

The earliest memory I have that may have contributed to my passion for self-injury would probably have to be when I was about 7. When I was 7 I saw my oldest sister being raped. I know it may sound crazy but I feel guilty for not being able to stop it. I feel that I was unable to protect her. This is why I don’t trust any of her boyfriends. From then on out my family life was miserable. My brother who is also older then me got into gangs and drugs. My older sister (the sister who was raped) tried to OD plenty of times too. Me being the middle child I feel like anytime something goes wrong it’s my fault because I could have stopped it but didn’t. After about the third time of my sister trying to OD succeeded and was then put into a mental institution for two weeks. The day she OD’ed was my younger sisters birthday. That same week my brother had run away for a couple of days. So once again I was alone with my thoughts and this time they went too far. Without my older sister I felt miserable once again I was unable to protect her, that’s when I picked up a box cutter, I was only 11. Every time I cut I feel this short wave of satisfaction, cutting to me is an addiction and when I don’t have my fix I will burst out. I am now 14 years old and cut very often. After reading a few books and picking up on this web site I feel a little better knowing I’m not alone. But I don’t think anybody will ever understand my pain and I hope no one else has to be faced with it.

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Copyright, Brittany

I have been cutting since the end of 7th grade. I am at the end of my 9th grade year now. I stopped for the summer between junior high and high school. Then my life took a plunge.

“High school sucks” I would tell everyone who asked how my high school life was going. My dad had lost his job and my mom’s salary wasn’t enough to even get groceries each week. My dad jumped around from job to job. While I was just here. Unnoticed and no one cared. I didn’t have very many friends. And I had a boyfriend. But he insisted on hanging out with other girls and not me. So it’s like he wasn’t even there. I had been cutting on and off every month. It seemed to get me through each day, week, or month. I didn’t try to stop because there was nothing holding me back. I didn’t care if I died. I had overdosed about 4 times. And cut really, really deep, enough to kill me 2 times. But all suicide attempts — 7 in all — didn’t work. I’m still here. depressed/sad/mad/crying. I don’t even go to school anymore until the office calls my parents and then I go for about 3 days. Just to satisfy my teachers. Then I would go home. And stay there. In my dark room. With my music. Crying. Or on the computer. Typing out my feelings in poems and journals… of multiple extent. I am a depressed loner. And up until about 7 weeks ago I had only been using a (not so sharp) knife. Or a safely pin to cut. But I have discovered razor blades. Now I use them. Every day for the past 7 weeks I have cut at least once. Last night was torturous. Last night was the night that I cut the most I have ever done before. 67+ cuts. I can’t even count them all. I counted up to 67 and then got tired and fell back on my bed. And woke up at 6. Then I felt like crap. I took some sleeping pills and now I have woken up. I cut my chest. Where my ribs are. My upper and lower arms on both sides. Both thighs and lower abdomens. My wrists. And my stomach. It looks terrible. I don’t know if I can survive.

 

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