**CAUTION** Today\’s Post is about Self-Mutilation. Some of the material may be triggering or objectionable to you. It also might include pictures so take care of yourself and if you need anything e-mail me. This is not a pro-mutilation post. I am also not writing this for any purpose other than needing to talk about it and not having a direct outlet.
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I don’t know how everything got so out of control. I don\’t know when my days began to be about cutting and not cutting more than anything else. I do remember when it began to get out of control.
I started hurting myself when I was very young. The age I began at is still unknown to me. Maybe because I don\’t really want to know. Maybe I just started to young to remember. Someone once told me that pepper doesn\’t have a taste at all. It just creates a small amount of pain on your tongue. I have always loved pepper. I always put a lot on almost everything. Not to say of course that eating a lot of pepper means that you are a self mutilator. I just mean that to me my whole memory of my life pain has equaled pleasure and happiness. I remember being very young and unhappy and digging my nails into my legs. I used to do that a lot. Little half moon marks all over. I often wonder how no one could have noticed. In 1st grade on the school bus a 6th grader punched me in the stomach b/c I told him he could do whatever he wanted, but he would never make me cry. I didn\’t. Also in 1st grade I ripped my thumb nail off with a pencil and while that was mainly an accident, but I have always thought that part of me knew what was going to happen and wanted it to. I have also had a history of biting the inside of my cheek and my tongue. As a result I have quite a few scars on my tongue and cheek. This all happened in elementary school.
I don\’t remember ever wanting attention for what I did. I just remember doing it and then feeling better. It was something that was just for me. Something I alone could have. My secret.
The first time I used a foreign object was when I was in 7th grade. My sister had made me really angry. I think it had something to do with her boyfriend at the time and her beginning to not spend time with me anymore. (She\’s much older than me and I have always valued her to some degree as a mother figure.) That day after she left me at home I went searching for scissors. I don\’t think I even knew why. I just knew that I needed them. After I located a pair I sat on the sofa in the living room and looked at them. Unsure of what to do next. Then almost like I had been planning it all along I opened the scissors and put out my left arm and in the middle of my forearm I carved a K. (Which was the 1st initial of my old name, which I have since changed.)
After doing so I felt incredable. It was like all of that anger and agression had left me. It made me feel happy. I was afraid it would get infected and that someone would notice so I made sure to keep it covered and I put neosporin on it daily. However one day I forget the neosporin(sp?) and so I went to the nurses office to ask for some. Long story short I ended up in guidence. She asked if I ever did it before, why I did it, would I do it agian. Anwsers were no, I don\’t no, no never. She said she understood it was a one time mistake and that she wouldn\’t tell my parents this time, but if it ever happened agian she would have to. She also told me if I ever needed to talk to go see her. I think the thought of her telling my parents scared me b/c it wasn\’t until late 8th grade that I started agian.
It was always scissors that I used. I think it was b/c they were so non threatining to look at. Also I could take them anywhere and no one would suspect. I was even good at using the kiddie scissors. I was also becoming more and more depressed. I didn\’t have any friends that knew about it and at that time in my life I kept it very much a secret.
Nineth grade is really when everything became a whole lot worse. Thatwas the year I met my toxic friend Sara. She too was a cutter, she also smoked, drank, cut class, and had an older boyfriend. We became very close and she was the first friend I ever had that I could tell anything to. I started to cut a lot worse. Everyday. It wasn\’t even about being mad anymore. I think that is when it became dangerous. It didn\’t matter what mood I was in I just did it. We just did it. It was like a drug to us. We needed it to get through our day. It also became nearly impossible for me to make it through an entire day w/o skipping a class.
This is what my arm would look like on a typical day.
There was a point at about the middle of my 9th grade year when I realized I was out of control. One day I decieded that I wasn\’t going to do it anymore. I said that it was stupid and destructive and that I just wasn\’t going to do it. That whole day I felt emotionally out of control. My feeling were not my own. All I could think about was cutting. I started to feel shaky and I would flip out at almost anyone. Sara was getting mad at me saying that I wanted to be like everyone else and that I was selling out. She said I wasn\’t really her friend if I couldn\’t do it with her.
I left my 3rd period class right in the middle of someones presentation. I went down to the basement and went into an old classroom that no one really used anymore. I just sat in there by myself for about 20 minutes. At that point in my life it seemed like not cutting was the only thing keeping my away from being a happier person. I was happier when I did it. So what was the big deal. I wasn\’t suicidal or anything. I wasn\’t hurting anyone. So I decided to just go with it.
I believe that people who cut anywhere that other people can see want to be caught. True cutters only cut places where no one but themselves will see the damage they have done. Otherwise you are only doing it for attention. I used to do it on my left arm and left leg….basicly the whole left side of my body. I usually wore long sleeved shirts so no one else would see.
I remember I was in one class…America History I think. There was this girl in my class. We weren\’t really friends, but she cut too. Because of that we became friends. She would call me her cutter buddie. Like we were in some secret club.
Science class was my favorite class of the day. Sara was in the same class as me. We meet in that class. I remember cutting in that class. I knew people could see me. I wanted them to see me. It made me feel kind of tough. Also at that point I really didn\’t like people all that much so it kept them away from me. Everyone in school practicaly knew that I did it. I don\’t know why I was so suprised when I got that call down to the guidance office. I figured it was about my grade, or maybe for cutting class. Worst case was they figured out that it wasn\’t really water in my water bottle. I sat down in the guys office and looked at him. He has a troubled kind of look. He asked me if he could see my arm. In my head I went into a panic. That this was not supposed to happen. This could not be happening. I don\’t remember what I said. I showed him the right one….the perfect one. He said he wanted to see the left one. I said no. He said that maybe he should tell my parents to look. I showed him….
He called my mom anyway. She was so upset. My dad was pissed. I wanted to die. That was the point it started to feel suicidal. Never before that. They made me see a pyshcologist. He was some Christian guy the church recomended. I hated him. I also had to talk to my family doctor about it. Everytime he said cut, he would make a slicing motion across his one arm with his other arm. That always made me unbelievably angry. They put me on prozac.
I learned how to get through it all. Put on a happy face assure everyone your fine. Be More Careful! Soon after I stopped going to the pyshcologist.
I went back to cutting right after that.
Three things happened that made it possible for me to stop.
Sara moved after 9th grade, and we never hung out agian.
I stopped going to church
I meet K.B.
I will write more on this Friday. They put me on anti-inflamitory\’s at the doctors office and they make me feel dizzy.
When I was a cutter I used to read about it all the time. I would read the magazine articles and watch the lifetime movies and use what I saw in there as tips on how to do it better. At this time I was also smoking, taking caffine pills, and selling acid.
The first thing I quit was selling the acid. I stopped because I sold a bad hit to someone and didn\’t want to take the chance of doing it agian and getting beat up.
I believe that to truely get rid of one addiction you have to get rid of them all. This has been my experience.
When Sara moved I was devestated at first. I felt like my only true friend was gone. I didn\’t know how I would make it through the next year with out her.
I went on a mission trip to Canada w/ my church in July. We were there to help the homeless. I cut on that trip. A girl whom I was “friends” with a church told the youth pastor about it and I had to go talk to him. I wish I could remember what he said, but I remember that it wasn’t overly religous and it was really emotional for me. When he talked to me about it I could see that he truely care. That was a big eye opener for me b/c at that time in my life no one really cared about me. He was very young too. I think he was about 25. I don’t know how he knew just what to say.
At one point he told me to close my eyes and open my mouth. I figured what do I have to lose so I did it. He proceded to put a bbq chip in my mouth. There are few things I hate more than the taste of bbq chips. I made a disgusted face and opened my eyes. He asked me what I tasted and I said that it was disgusting. He smiled and said that I could taste it. I said yea…and. Then he said \”Your alive.\” He said that he knew someone else who had been in this situation and that they did it b/c they felt dead inside. Unloved, unwanted, just nothing. They felt nothing. So they cut themselves b/c seeing the blood made them feel. It told them they were a person and that they were alive. A peice of my shell fell off that day. I had never thought about cutting that way. I had never thought of myself that way. However after he said it, something clicked. Finally someone said something true. I looked at him and I just started crying. I cried in front of him harder than I cried to anyone, but my mom before. He then said that \”From this point on everytime you need to feel alive, eat a bbq chip.\” I still cut after that, but not really as much. Also the point was not that I stopped, but it was the first time someone got through to me. I still can\’t eat a bbq chip without getting teary, but I can\’t tell if it\’s what he said or the taste.
I stopped going to church soon after that though. I stopped b/c it was bad for me. I felt bad there. Plus all of the friends I had at church were only my friends on Sunday. I hate fakeness.
In July that summer I also started working at a gas station. Who else worked at that gas station? None other than K.B.
Tenth grade was when my entire life change. I was seeing a boy at time. Jeff. Woohoo. He was always nice to me, but we had some of the same problems. He cut too. He was my first kiss, my first makeout session……he was my first of a lot of things. But he wasn’t what I needed at the time. Also K.B. and I were becoming much closer as friends. By December we were hanging out everyday. By the end of December we were having sex and by Jan we were dating.
She is the one who change my life. I don’t even know how she did it. I stopped cutting shortly after we began dating and I have had only a few slipups since then. I also stopped taking anti-depressants. All I can say it that she is amazing b/c otherwise I have no idea how I got through it all.
I haven’t stopped thinking about it though. Everyday I make the conscious choice not to do it. It will most likely be like this for the rest of my life……but I think i’m doing alright. I just have to keep taking it one day at a time.
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