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Lets go to the beginning, where it all started,

It’s the beginning of my 6^th grade year. I am 11. My sister just died and my step-dad had just started sexually abusing me (in secret of course. Nobody but him and I knew about that). All of my family members are drug addicts and alcoholics. I pretended to be so happy, and should have gotten an Oscar for my performance. My parents thought I was in denial of my sisters death because I seemed so cheery.

I got the idea of cutting from an older girl that went to my school. We met up 30-45mins before school everyday and walked together. One day before school, I had to go to the bathroom and I, being a girl, asked her to go with me. In the bathroom we had a deep conversation and she ended up showing me her cuts. I was fascinated by them. I had never heard of anyone doing this before. I didn’t get it, I didn’t understand how inflicting pain on yourself would make your internal pain lessen. Wouldn’t inflicting more pain just increase the overall pain you were in? I decided to investigate.

My first cuts were across my wrist with a razor blade out of a shaving razor. The lacerations I made were very shallow, just enough to bleed. I don’t think I was instantly hooked but I knew I liked it. It was a new way to express my feelings. I noticed my thoughts were no longer racing. It was a great distraction. Instead of focusing on all the shit in my life I was focusing on how to hide my cuts, on keeping them from infection. After this first time, I began cutting frequently for the rest of my 6^th grade year. I started dressing in black and was one of the ‘bad kids’ in school.

Within this year I also started burning myself. I had started smoking and put the cigarettes out on my skin. I loved it. It was the closest to a “warm cozy feeling” I’ve ever felt. I then began to give myself friction burns. I did this with erasers and Scotch Brite scrubbers. Nobody knew about any of this, except the older girl I met at school, who I never talked to anymore. She had to change schools mid year because her mom found out about what she had done and blamed the stress the school put on her.

It’s the summer after my 6^th grade year. I decided to stop in fear of getting caught since I was on the swim team. It was harder then I thought it would be but I COULD NOT risk getting caught. I did still wear long sleeves and wristbands and jackets. My parents have gotten used to me wearing that all the time that it would be too odd if I just stopped.

The end of my 7^th grade year, I have relapsed a few times before now but I still haven’t quite gotten back to self injuring frequently. I just told on my step-dad for the reoccurring sexual abuse. He got put in jail and my stepbrothers had to move away and they began hating me for telling. I have to go see a shrink and I am more afraid then ever about getting caught. The shrink told my parents to look for signs of cutting in me because many sexually abused people show signs of self-injurious behavior. I changed schools because I got into a good gifted magnet school. I didn’t make many friends. I feel very alone and start cutting again. I no longer have the “everything is alright” mask on. I really couldn’t care less if people knew I was miserable. I quit the summer swim team I was on, cutting is more important.

It is now the beginning of 8^th grade. I am 13. I am still in therapy but it isn’t going very well. I manipulate the shit out of my therapist. I meet a girl at school who becomes my best friend. She introduces me to her other friends
and I finally have a clique. They all do drugs and I do them as well. They didn’t pressure me into it, if anything it was the opposite. I wanted to do them. I like exploring new horizons.

My new best friend also cuts and so do most of our other friends. We have discussions of it and sometimes they even cut each other. This year I noticed how my cutting has escalated. How I used to only scratch and now I dig and burn. How I used to only cut on my wrists but now I cut my thighs also. I used to be scared to dig this deep but now it's just natural.

We all go to the same gifted high school for 9^th grade. I am 14. This is the hardest school I had ever been to. I try hard but still get failing grades. This is the first time I have ever failed in school in my life. I am very stressed and turn to drugs and cutting more then ever.

My parents and my therapist both think I should change schools so I don’t have to repeat the 9^th grade. Mid-year I am forced to leave my friends and go to a religious private school.

I do not fit in well at my new school. I sacrificed my social life for my grades. I do not talk to anyone at my new school and my already deep cutting gets deeper. I could die if I cut the wrong location. I don’t want to die but I can’t imagine cutting any shallower then I do. It would only be a tease to me.

One night, I did some drugs and decided to cut. I sliced my thigh with a razor from a wall scraper. I cut out my fat and began playing with it and throwing it around. I was giving myself liposuction. I finger painted in my blood. I couldn’t stop laughing. I then cut my wrist deep and as I cut, blood squirted out at me. I panicked. I didn’t want to die. I just want to cut. Just then my cell phone rings and it was a friend who knows about my cutting. I told him the situation and he told me to put pressure on it and tell my mom unless I want to die. So I told my mom and she took me to the E.R. I got some stitches and then was Baker acted.

A week later, I get out of the hospital and have to go to PHP. I go there for about a month and relapse. I cut and OD’d. I get more stitches, get my stomach pumped, and the doctors recommended residential treatment. That is months of inpatient therapy. My parents agreed. I couldn’t believe it. I’m not crazy! I just have bad habits.

I went to residential treatment for 3 months. I met many cool people and I got a lot of help but I didn’t WANT help. I didn’t WANT to stop self injuring so I didn’t.

Sometimes in treatment I would give myself friction burns on my thighs. The same night I would get in the shower and turn the water as hot as it would go and feel the burn. The hot water rolling down my burns made them alive again. One day about 2 months into treatment a friend on the unit broke the pencil sharpener and stole the blades. She told me and gave me a blade. I was SO excited. I cut that night. The following morning we all got a surprise self-injury check. I got caught. They sent me to the E.R. and I got some more stitches.

I lost all trust I had with my parents, with my therapist, with pretty much everyone. When I got discharged, I went back home to find locked up everything. CD’s, Scissors, Razors, Knives, DVD’s, ect… I was furious but I knew I had to gain trust to get stuff back and flipping out wouldn’t help.

Two months later, in the beginning of my 10^th grade year, I relapsed on pills. I am 15. I OD’d and got Baker Acted again. That was 2 weeks ago. I am working hard to gain my parents trust back but I still don’t want to quit.

The major thing keeping me from cutting right now is my boyfriend. I met him in 6^th grade and we have been close since. He used to cut but is stopping with me. He told me if I relapse, he will. I care too much about him to self-injure. We have been going out for a couple months.

I found that planning to cut in the future and keep putting it off is one of the only ways I can stay cut-free. The anticipation is half the fun.

 4 years of cutting has both saved and endangered my life. Even though cutting almost cut my life short multiple times, I still don’t want to quit on my own. That kind of scares me because I don’t know what it will take for me to stop for good.