Archive for the ‘Cutting’ Category

Hello

December 12, 2012

Hi,

I know it has been a while; I am really sorry if I caused any worry.  My dad kicked me out just over a year ago; so I live with my mom now.  I am applying to colleges and am busy with school work.  I still struggle with my past.  And yes, those struggles include self-injury.  I am trying to find ways to use my struggles with SI to help others.  I know my past will follow me the rest of my life, but I also realize that I have grown enormously because of it.  Now, I hope to use this to help others.

~the girl behind the words

Happy? Who me???

February 23, 2010

When I was with my mom for the fifteen days after the hearing, I was happy. That might seem like not that big of a deal, but it is. I cannot remember the last time someone told me that I looked happy. But during those fifteen days I was told that repeatedly. I was shocked every time I heard that; happy and I are not used in the same sentence without a un or a not. I was laughing and it sounded real, because for the first time in three years there was not a hidden depression fighting it. I was not struggling to keep myself afloat in the quicksand of depression; I was walking on a bridge above it. I started to realize that although I was scared of the future and was worried, I was happy. This fact shocked me. I have never been a happy person. My imaginary friend committed suicide. When I was little I would stand at the top of the stairs, look down over the railing and think about how easy it would be to jump. The only thing that kept me from jumping was my mom. I knew that she would be devastated. I could never hurt her like that. Not a day goes by when I don’t think morbid thoughts of one kind or another. And yet in those fifteen days, no morbid thought entered my mind. I had no weight in my chest. I felt as light as a feather. I will look back on those days as the best fifteen days of my life, covered by fear and worry, but peaceful and happy. I have never looked back because the past was too painful the first time, why make myself live through it again, but these fifteen days I will hold in my memory forever, not look back on them but rather know that they were there and in the mist of the fire pits of hell on Earth, there is an oasis. I will always hold those days dear. I had believed that I could never be truly happy as the weight of my past would never allow it. Now I know that I was wrong and I will be able to be happy when this is over, or even sooner. I have not lost the ability to be happy.

Cutting

November 23, 2009

A lot of people don’t understand why people cut, so let me explain.  So, you know how when you have a twisted ankle you ice it?  At first, the ice hurts a ton, but then it numbs the pain and makes it so you can use your ankle again.  Cutting is the same, sure it hurts but the pain is soon followed by a great feeling of relief and then nothing, the pain is gone.  Then the next day you can be strong and get through the day again.

Cutting

May 27, 2009

I had been cutting off and on for over a year.  My dean just found out yesterday, May 26, 2009.  When my dad yells at and insults me I would go up to my room and cut.  I have only, ever, cut because of my dad.  I started out by scraping away at my skin with a sharp piece of metal.  I would have to do this quickly or else I would get welts and have to start over or stop and wait at least a day to cut again.  Then I went to cutting.  I would cut my skin with wire that I had sharpened.  I sharpened a knitting hook and used that as well.  Before I cut I would wipe what I would use off using my shirt.  I would cut my arm.  I would cut quickly and quickly rotate my arm the other way making it cut deeper.  I would only cut along my forearm, but then I realized that it was too noticeable, so I went to my stomach.  Whenever I could not cut I would pinch myself. The last day I cut, my dad had yelled and insulted me a ton, so I quickly and firmly cut my stomach until there were so many welts that I could not cut very well anymore.  My first ones would not be very deep, but the later ones would bleed.  I cleaned off my cuts with a wet q-tip.  The next day at school, my undershirt pulled at my scabs.  I could not bend or twist without yanking at my scabs.  My friends had been aware of my cutting for awhile, but had never told.  After that day one of my friends told my dean.  My mom now knows, and my dad was told as well.  I am with my mom tonight.  I am terrified of going back to my dad’s house tomorrow.  I wish that I could go anywhere except for there.  I mean, when I went to the nurse at school because I had a battery acid burn, my dad yelled at me and got extremely mad.  I have been scared to even go to the nurse since then.  I want to go to a friend’s house or stay at my mom’s.  I have never cut at my mom’s, or because of school, or relationships ending, or anything except for my dad.  I am scared that my dad will hurt me, yell at me, or do anything else that he has done when he is mad.