Psyke.org

Megan

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Copyright, Megan

I am thirteen. I’ve been cutting since I was eleven. I have many reasons for this and I’m willing to share them because like so many others on here I have a problem and I’m fine with that.

This may not seem so strange to other self injurers but I love the feeling of blood dripping down my arm. I love knowing it was my fault I was in pain. Yet, I hate the reasons I cut, and only with cutting took them away.

Since I was young my older brother would beat me. I don’t mean little sibling rivalry where you play fight, I mean being defenseless against someone who could have killed you. He would punch me, kick me, slap me, choke me, and threaten to break my neck while holding it in the perfect position where if he barely moved his hand I would have died. I have many near death experiences because of him. There is one memory that will always stand out in my mind. My mom, her friend, and my brother went to get high at a neighbors house while I was sleeping. There was a one year old and a three year old also at the house with me. I woke up while they were still gone because the little three year old was scared since no one was home. When they got back from getting high I was angry they would leave the kids with me while I was asleep and unaware we were the only ones home. My brother got angry at me at started choking me with all his force. I started to black out, while my mother and her friend just stood there and watched. He finally let me go and I was hyperventilating. I wanted to die. In my mind I was hoping he would tighten his grip, taking me away from this life I hate.

My father is a drunk. He does absolutely nothing. A shadow in the background of my mind that I wish was never there. My mom is a very submissive person. Never stands up for herself, or me for that matter. She could watch my brother kill me and just ask him politely to clean up the dead body.

These small things, my family life, my memories. Every day, this is what breaks me. Tears me apart and cutting can almost put me back together.

I recently promised my boyfriend that I would stop cutting. At first he was just the person who helped me, but now he’s what keeps me alive. I have attempted suicide many times, others I have simply cut too deep. At this point it’s very hard, I promised not to cut, I am trying.

But just today I punched a mirror for the pain and because I hate what I look at every day, the person that I am and despise. As I scratch my arms fiercely with my nails and slowly drag my nails across my face, hope this ends well or ends soon.

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Copyright, Megan

I am fifteen years old and this year has been quite possibly my worst year ever. Some people have bad days and some people have bad weeks but I wish that it would just be one bad week. I have been depressed for six months or more. My past is catching up with me and I’m constantly reminded of all the mistakes I’ve made. I couldn’t deal with it any longer so I started cutting myself. One night I was just so upset and I didn’t know what else to do. After that night things started getting worse and it became my escape. It was very unhealthy but it made me feel so much better. It got worse as the weeks went on, I started cutting myself every night multiple times. I knew it had gotten out of control but I couldn’t stop I had this urge inside of me when anything went wrong to cut. I didn’t know what else to do so I went to my youth pastor. He didn’t really do anything at first he just made me promise that I would call him. I did the first few times but I never felt better afterwards. Talking just didn’t have the same effect as actual pain did. I stopped calling and I apologised for breaking my promise but there wasn’t anything I could do it just didn’t work. He told me he wanted me to talk to someone and I was pretty open to the idea. He set up a time for me to meet with this person. I then found out it was someone I knew and I hadn’t gotten along with in the past. I was furious and upset and I didn’t know what else to do so I cut, much more and much deeper. I told him I couldn’t do it the same day I was supposed to meet with her. He seemed angry. He told me I need to and that he really wants me to. I felt so bad but I just couldn’t put myself through that. A week or two went by and he kept pushing the idea on me and I told him I couldn’t. He told me if I didn’t talk to her then he was going to have to talk to my parents. This just made me cut more and more. I couldn’t do that and he knew that, he knows how my parents are. I ended up talking to her but I told him I didn’t want to talk to him about it again. The conversation didn’t go well with the counsellor. She talked to me like I was three. She acted disgusted and I was just too mad to deal with that. I talked with one of my best friends, Gary. He asked me if I loved him and I said of course and he asked me if I loved him enough to stop cutting for him. That hit me in the deepest part of my heart. I love Gary so much and I told him I was going to do my best to never cut. It’s been over a month since I’ve cut and I’m still talking to Janette (I’m trying to get out of it though). I’m working on things with Rick and it’s much harder than I imagined. Through all of this I’ve grown closer to his wife, Tina and much closer to Gary. I told Gary everything about my past. I can’t tell Rick or Tina because I think they would have to tell my parents. It makes me sad because I really want to talk to Tina about it. Cutting is a bad escape. It works but it is self destructive. Soon enough you’ll be cutting yourself every day. You won’t be able to stop and some day someone will notice. I found that writing poems helps, it’s another escape for me. I used to cut myself because I wanted to be able to feel real pain and fix it because I couldn’t fix the pain I was feeling on the inside. I had been raped (I don’t like even using that word) by my brothers when I was younger. I couldn’t get rid of that but Gary helped me to realise it’s not who I am, granted it has made me who I am. I feel a lot better but it is still something I struggle with but I no longer want it to be the person I am today.

A little blood trickles out
This is what real pain is about
Just a little scratch
And one on the other arm to match
A little pain goes a long way
It keeps me from falling into complete dismay
One cut is all I need
It’s like a drug dealer and his little bit of weed
It holds you over when times are rough
It keeps you going when you’ve had enough
So this one last time I cut myself
Then I lay the safety pin on the shelf
This is no longer a part of me
No longer the person I want to be

Oh what one small cut could do
If you only knew
To finally get all of this out
I can show you what real pain is about
If you look deep within me
Lies, secrets, and dirty truths are what you will see
Thing you would never want to know
These things that I will never show
All of these things I try to hide
Because I don’t know in who I should confide
Who would want to see this side of me
See this person even I don’t want to be
There are so many things you would never want to find
So many things that would overcome your mind
A guy I want that will never be mine
Oral before grade nine
You thought this girl was doing great
But what normal girl has sex before the age of eight
The scars on my arms will never come close to showing the pain on the inside
The pain that I can no longer hide
Relationships are left broken
Words that need to be said are left unspoken
Everything you find out about me is pretty rare
Instead of living a dream I’m living a nightmare

I cant accept this part of me
This part that no one can see
I cant bring myself to smile
I haven’t been truly happy in awhile
I feel so alone
I feel like I am on my own
I am surrounded by people who call themselves friends
But look how quickly this friendship ends
These relationships lay on the ground in pieces
As hate around us just increases
When will this cycle come to an end
When will my heart finally mend
I don’t know that I can take much more
Living has become nothing more than a chore

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Copyright, Megan

First off, I’m sixteen years old. Probably the first time I ever self injured was in the 7th grade. I didn’t really realise it as self injuring. I would just get so mad and upset about things and take a knife and start sawing at my wrist. Somehow it took away my mental pain, and replaced it with physical pain. And to me, physical pain was much easier to deal with and get over, than mental pain. I self injured every once in a while in middle school, when I would get so mad or depressed about things. I stopped it at the end of 8th grade and I have just recently started up in the last six months.

Now I can actually realise why I do it. Most of the time I hate who I am and who I have become. I started smoking pot about a year ago, I didn’t do it a lot, and I stopped for two months, but then I started back up and smoke three or more times a week. Sometimes I smoke cigarettes, but I’m not addicted. I drink and get drunk on every night I don’t have school the next day, because hangovers suck. I try to starve myself sometimes, and I am probably borderline anorexic, I weigh somewhere around 100 and I’m 5’6” tall. which is really skinny. I’m not always depressed and down. When I’m with my boyfriend, or friends and out places I am happy, but when I get home I see everything that’s bad in my life. My family is pretty poor, we can’t afford a lot, I’m stupid, my sister is the loved child in my family because she is smart and pretty and I’m not. Me and my boyfriend fight a lot, I fight with my parents, and when I see how unhealthy I am, and how I’m too pathetic to get help or turn to anything besides what I do, it gets me depressed. When I can’t smoke or drink or anything I just take anything sharp around me and cut myself numerous times. Somehow it feels good. It gets my mind off things, and I get all my stress and tension out. I’m scared I’m becoming addicted to drugs, alcohol, and cutting. I really want to quit all these things but I don’t know if I can. I read things to do instead of cutting and they are all so stupid and wouldn’t ever work in my life time. I like to read about other people’s problems too, so if you want to talk to me you can e-mail me at shizpoo2007@yahoo.com. If you have anything that actually works instead of cutting then please also tell me. I have an online journal if you’re interested. I want to stop things if I can before I mess up my life but I don’t know how to…

Regret

Copyright, Megan

When I started cutting I was so messed up. I couldn’t go an hour without doing it. I’m only fourteen and I’ll be fifteen pretty soon. Right now I’m on the way to being completely cured. I looked at the pictures and I gotta tell you when you cut and look at these pictures you don’t seem grossed out but if you see these pictures and cringe a little you know you’re getting better. Well at least for me that’s what’s happening. The worst part about cutting is the scars. Once you have them they won’t go away, but knowing that people are looking at your cuts instead of you when you’re talking to them really hurts because you know that they think you are some kind of freak. I refused to do gym this year because you swim and you wear a bathing suit which shows your legs and my legs have so many scars and I cut pretty deep on my legs so my scars stick out on my pale white body. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I regret so much and once in a while I’ll cut just to remember the feeling… Nothing.

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Copyright, Megan

This is my personal story to declare to every other self harmer who feels they have lost all control of their life and to those who are also affected by the self harmers that there is light at the end of the tunnel!

My name’s Megan, I’m seventeen years old and live in the UK and there is light at the end of the tunnel! I promise you! I started self harming at the age of thirteen and have been suicidal a few times since that age. I used the power of self harming as a significant tool in coping with the lows life brings.

I can appreciate the crap others have bin through, through no fault of their own, e.g. abuse, although I have never been abused, I’m not sure if that made it easier or not for me to deal with what I was doing. After trying to get help from self harm help books, I became increasingly dissatisfied. I found that many of these books focused on those who have been abused and are now self harming. I couldn’t understand why I was self harming, as I had had an excellent upbringing. With this, I couldn’t understand what was going on and why I was feeling how I was feeling.

I used the art of poetry many times to try to understand, and this did help a lot. Putting some of my poetry on this website felt like a real achievement, which felt amazing. I must say having someone to talk to helps immensely.

However, I appreciate that not everyone can understand self harmers, which may come across as anger, sadness and many more emotions for those on the “outside” (your family and friends). It helped me to comprehend that the “outsiders” are not in the position you’re in, just think if you can’t understand why you do it, then they have less of a clue than you do. I was a self harmer for over a year, before I told my mum. I don’t blame her for not noticing, as I didn’t want her to know anyway. And so a message to those wondering why their family or friends haven’t noticed how depressed you feel, maybe it’s because you hide it too well. Maybe it’s time, you stood up for yourself, for your skin’s future and told someone. And you know, even if you feel your family don’t seem interested or you’re not much of a social person, there’s always teachers at school and for those who are a bit older, there is always your doctor. You are not alone, you’re nowhere near.

Additionally, to those who are quite happy to stay a self harmer, you do what you do to cope, and that’s cool. I always told my mum I would stop self harming when I was ready. And now, I have stopped. So it’s cool, as long as you are safe in what you do and as long as somewhere in your head, you know that one day, you will be able to cope in other, less scarring ways.

I look at my arms now and I feel proper guilty for what I have done to myself, not just my skin, but myself as a person. I feel so conscious of what other people think of me, by looking at my arms, and I hate it, and sometimes, as much as I know I should accept myself for who I am (including my past experiences) I wish I had never got into it.

I think self harm is an addiction and like any addiction, it takes plenty of time and effort and patience and help to get over it, to be a free person who isn’t controlled by such a destroying thing as self harm.

Me now? I’m free from self harm, free from suicidal thoughts, free from control, free to be happy and free to be me. There is light. If you want it that much, you can have it, because whether you like it or not, you, yes you, are worth it!

If any one, and I mean any one, big small, little, huge, green looking, whatever, wants to email me, in reference to my story or just someone to talk to, I check my email every day. For now, I must let you get on. Thanks for reading.

Why?

Copyright, Megan

I have been self-mutilating for about 6 years. I hit myself, pull out my hair, and cut (very rare). I’ve tried to stop, but I’m having trouble because I don’t know why I self-injure. I only do it when I’m upset or angry. Many people say that self-injury is a way to get attention. I don’t want people to know that I do it because of this. I don’t show what I do to myself to people to keep myself from getting myself even more upset, which will make me want me to self-injure more.

I know what I do isn’t a good thing. It doesn’t solve my problems, but it helps get my mind off of them. I have back up methods for coping, but it doesn’t always work.

If you ever need to talk e-mail me.

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Copyright, Megan

I remember when I was a little girl I was so happy. I didn’t have a care in the world. I loved everything.

Now I am 16 and scared of everything.

I also remember when I was a little girl that I quickly became fascinated with blood. I would pick open scabs and watch the wounds bleed. I was constantly competing with my “twin” brother (he’s 10 months younger than me) for my dad’s attention.

When I was 12 I became severely depressed. I remember one night I took a whole bunch of pills I had found in the bathroom. It wasn’t enough to do anything. A few nights later I took a sewing needle and poked and scratched at my skin. This turned into my cutting problem. I began to use sharper things. Safety pins, pocket knives, pieces of glass. I would also take a lighter and burn my arm sometimes.

The SI went away for awhile. Then my sophomore year in high school it came back worse than ever. I finally was with someone I loved. But he was cheating on me with his ex-girlfriend. I couldn’t take it so I began cutting more often and deeper. I tried to commit suicide several more times. I tried to quit over and over, but every time I would fail.

I never got treatment. Right now I am at 86 days of no cutting. However, I did burn myself a few days ago and my arms will have new scars on prom night. I’m scared and depressed. But most of all, I just want to get better.

 

Permanent location: http://www.psyke.org/personal/m/megan