"My parent said they couldn't go near me, they got sick. They said they couldn't love me when I cut myself. Stopped talking to me for days and even longer each time they found out, so I would come home from the ER and stay in my room to not see them ignoring me. My sister felt guilty. My friend was disgusted, but she felt bad about it, and tried to work on that. She supported me and even drove me to the ER when I hit a tendon in my wrist and was freaking out. She was extremely open and always tried to listen and not judge, which was very refreshing."



"2 college friends said I was a freak, another tried to get me to a doctor, but I refused and I don't see him now. Parents won't mention it, sister occasionally ask questions, but usually discussed as questions about Richey Edwards (SI'ing rock star), penfriends seemed relieved when they found out I did it too, we're not alone. When my friends said I was a freak, I cut the word *freak* into my arm (1 year ago, still have the scars)."



"I'm not sure which one of us cried harder. As he held me, I felt like I was in the presence of the only person in the world who not only knew the real me."



"My girlfriend started crying and she does so every time I SI...my other friends were scared & told me they didn't like me doing that...my feeling were that of indifference for the most part, except that I wish she wouldn't cry..."



"When I tried to explain SI to her after we watched a T.V. show about it she called me a liar and said nobody really harms themselves unless the intent was suicide."



"They say I shouldn't and try to take my razor away sometimes. Once my friend Beka hit me on the knee real hard. I thought it was pretty funny. I just shrugged it off, I know they care about me, but they don't understand that it helps sometimes."



"They thought I was a little nuts, needed help, they were really worried. I dunno, it made me feel good that they cared, and I liked the attention but I didn't like that they were worried and upset and it pissed me off that they really wanted me to stop: like they were taking away the one thing that made me really happy."



"She told me I shouldn't do it and she was worried about me. It made me feel even worse because I felt bad because she was worried about me."



Her mother said "Are you okay, maybe you should take to someone, what's wrong with you, obviously you don't respect yourself."



"They freaked and made me promise not to do it again. I said yes just to make them feel better though. That settled everything for them. I felt hurt that they did not take me serious[ly] and get me help."



"We [she and a friend who used to cut] talked about our experiences. She was very understanding. I was nice to talk to someone who did [not] panic and try to change the subject."



"One supervisor has never said anything about it...I think she just blew it off. The other one was really concerned and caring. My friends have all mostly been worried. Sometimes I feel now like I'm under scrutiny for telling them, like they should check my arms. But mostly they have all been really caring. I am very careful in who I tell, though, before anyone finds out. My therapist asked me to sign a no-harm contract and to call her, crisis care or a friend, when I felt that bad."



"Well, if I tell someone who doesn't know already, I just act like it's no big deal and kind of make a joke out of it. They usually don't say much, they don't know WHAT to say."



"Most people react by telling me how stupid I am, and telling me how bad it is for me, and asking, why don't I just stop?"



"Most of my friends were very supportive, being that I told only three of them. They said they had had an idea of what was going on, they were just waiting to hear me say it. My best friend promised she would always be there, and my other friend said I could call her to talk whenever I felt like cutting."





"Everybody reacts differently. Its weird. There are some people that I can't handle the way they act as though they know what is right for me just because I have this "psychotic" behavior or something. You just learn to deal with what each person individually can handle."

many of them reply with "i dont know what to say..." and i always found thats the answer i like best. it always just made me feel worse when the person tried to sympathize or understand what was going on. it just made me feel like a freak.

When i approached my mother with the deep cuts on my arm, she was just stunned at first. Then over the next many many hours at the hospital she was crying a lot and hugging me and telling me she loved me. Over the next week she tried to have many conversations with me, asking me what she could do, or what she had done. I felt absolutely horrible. I felt like the most ungrateful, selfish, stupid brat ever. I felt as if i was the worst human on Earth for having put my Mom through this.

[female, age 18, began to SI at age 12, university student]

he one in my class asked a lot of questions, and I told him I wasn't ready to answer them yet, but in reality I feel a bit hurt, like he knows to much and is being nosy. I regret telling him and now I avoid him. My bandmate was great. He talked about the others in the band, said how hard it was for the guy to quit, and that I should try not to do it as much. But he was very supportive and nice, and it felt like a huge relief. My boyfriend never mentions it ever. He probably has no idea how to handle it, and I think it makes him scared.

[female, age 19, began to SI at age 18, University student]

When i told my sister, she cried and i felt really bad about it all. I felt stupid for doing this and i felt realy bad that she had to deal with me. My mom didnt take it so well...I dont think she knew how to react, she seemed mad and sad and yea...she gave me a really hard time about it, and she asked me all kinds of questions and comments that REALLY hurt me, but i dont really hold that against her since she didnt know how to react. My stepdad didnt really say much (which is a good thing, because he knows i dont care too much for his opinions.) My mom went and told some therapist and she looked at my cuts and told me how "serious" it was, and i felt really stupid having to sit in front of her and explain everything. i was very frustrated because no one seemed to understand. But when i was hospitalized, i met tons of teens who SI-ed and understood what i was going through and talking about. I felt so much better knowing that someone knew what i was going through and understood me.

[female, age 16, began to SI at age 14, high school student]

My dad is a major trigger for my anger because he's a workahlolic ass and puts me down about it. My mom is my main help source. She's great and I love her very much for it. My sister kinda blows it off as a phase because she went through it as well although not as long. My little brother doesn't really understand since my parents haven't explained it to him. My friends are a built in support group and they understand what I'm thinking during those times.

[female, age 15, began to SI at age 13, high school (freshman)]

The counselors acted as counsleors would which made me feel like a statistic. My friends convinced me that they had bigger problems which made me feel like an idiot. When my Dad found out he didn't believe me and thought I was cutting myself for attention, I still don't know how I feel about that. Part of me thinks he might be right, the other part of me wants to smack him and tell him to get a clue.

[female, age 18, began to SI at age 16, Art Student]

My girlfriend was very upset and threatened to start cutting herself if I didn't stop it. I gave her the knife and invited her to do it if she was serious. She didn't cut herself. She then understood that it was not something that I had started doing for the sheer hell of it, I was doing it because I was unwell. I was so unwell when I told my relatives that I can't remember their reactions.

[male, age 32, began to SI at age 28, Security]

The first time my best friend found out was after the first time I cut. She had the look of disappointment on her face. After that, she told me to stop and would get angry at me; she didn't understand. Earlier this year she started cutting herself and then realized that everything I said was true. The others are shocked or appalled at the thought of me cutting, and a few have gotten scared when they notice just how wide some of my scars have gotten. What I hate the most is when a person takes my cutting as a form of me trying to find attention.

[female, age 15, began to SI at age 13, high school student]

I have only ever told peopled when thy have asked or enquired. And even then I give as little information, without avoiding the question, as possible and act indifferent to the subject before finding a tangent to break out onto.

My mother told me I was a selfish nasty little girl when she saw I had scars, she is convinced I have self harmed to try and imply to the neighbors that she is a bad mother.

My closest friend didn't react at all, her attitude is "each to their own".

Most people stare at the scar tissue I have on my arms just because you cannot ignore it, the amount and size of the scaring makes it nearly impossible to not notice.

My mothers views on the scar tissue I bare irritate me, her self indulgence and ignorance annoy me. To consider I have spent ten years self mutilating to try and imply she is a bad mother to the neighbors is, in my opinion, slightly self obsessed.

I respect how my friend reacted, or rather how she didn't react... self harm is something I have to conquer myself, she didn't try to discourage me, or threaten to tell anyone, she didn't use the "Oh my god my friend hurts herself!" card to gain attention or anything... she just accepted me and that what I do.

And as for those who stare or whisper about the scars I carry, so be it, I'm not going to become upset about their ignorance, if it causes them a few minutes of pleasure to stare or whisper about my scars at least they serve a purpose and make somebody happy.

[female, age 16, began to SI at age 6, College Student]

My dad never mentioned it, until I got my tattoo on my arm. He said, "You realize you're going to have to wear long sleeves for the rest of your professional life." I said, "I already have to, it's not a problem." He asked, "Why do you have to wear long sleeves?" I said, "You know why, don't ask." "I want to hear you say it," he said. "Because of the scars." I said. He said, "Scars from what?" (persistent devil, isn't he?) "You know from what." "I want to hear you say it." "BECAUSE I CUT MY ARMS UP WITH RAZOR BLADES AND MY ARM IS COVERED IN SCARS." He got quiet, and I was sobbing on the phone (he lives in Colorado). "I'm sorry" he said. "I just needed to hear you say it." Everyone else I know, never knew me before I started cutting. So, for as long as they've known me, I've been a cutter. I don't think I had to tell anyone, except my husband. Everyone just sort of knew. My husband told me that I didn't have to worry, he was understanding and would help. But when I didn't stop cutting after I started dating him, he got upset. I think he believed (and still does believe) that I cut because of my previous relationship, and that I wouldn't need to once I was with him. He thought he could fix me, and he can't, so it upsets him.

[female, age 22, began to SI at age 15, college]

The first friends I told weren't really surprised, because they knew I'd been depressed. I felt good about telling them, because they affirmed how much they cared about me, and how much they wanted me to get better. Telling my school counselor made me cry, because I was so humiliated and scared. I didn't want her to tell my mother. That was very hard. My first psychologist was wonderful and helped me stop. She treated me like an equal, and I felt like she believed in me and wanted me to get better, which made me want to get better. My second psychologist asked me if I was using something sterile to do it with. The hell? Isn't that a weird question to start with? The third counselor made me promise never to do it again. Hello? Like that ever fucking works. She was a tool. My aunt was shocked and upset. My sister said, "Oh. My friend does that."

[female, age 20, began to SI at age 7]

First only two people understood me, because they did the same. My father said nothing at all, he was too shocked, and I felt very stupid and was afraid. My mother was also shocked, she asked me why I did this and was allways in worry because of me.

My schoolmate hoped it would be some kind of phase I was going through. The man in Tunesia told me to stop it and that it was stupid. But I hadn´t expected him to understand anything. He just wanted to fuck me, and I didn´t care. Maybe he also hoped to get a european, rich wife when I was older. (I´m no rassist, but it was that way)

The boy I was in love with told me to go into therapy and that he couldn´t help me (he studies psychology). The boyfriend I had also told me to stop that, that he loved and needed me, and he slapped my face once because he had discovered new wounds.
Since december I´m together with my boyfriend, who was the first man who ever understood me. I didn´t really have to tell him, when I began to tell him about it, he allready knew. He loves me as I am, since the first day, and that was it what I needed. Since the first day I didn´t cut myself anymore.

[female, age 15, began to SI at age 14]

My parents were very, VERY upset, being strict Christians, and it was the topic of many ensuing battles between us, along with my subsiquent denial of their religion. They never stopped loving me though, and now those scars too have healed over. Those friends who knew but didn't SI themselves were supportive and tried to help me, though deep down I didn't really want to be helped, and eventually drove them away because of that. It hurt to lose them, but I realize now that it was my own doing, and I cannot change the past. My friends who turned out to be SI-ers as well were not joyful at the discovery so much as happy to recognize a part of themselves in me, as I was with them. Sharing our pains together, when before we had been very alone, made us closer and more dangerous.

[female, age 20, began to SI at age 17, unemployed]