"Even though I feel that no one can help me- I still care about others and I hope if someone reads this they know that they really are not alone. I love to help people. It is the only reason I haven't killed myself. I believe my purpose on this rancid planet is to make sure that no one else is forced to share my fate. No one should feel this alone or this lost. No one should have to hurt themselves to feel better."



"I often feel like i am not real or not worthy of being believed. SI is my way of proving that i feel like this despite that i feel i have no right to feel it. I have never been abused or mistreated at all. I had a 'perfect' childhood and have great parents.... i don't know why i have turned to SI but i know i feel guilty that people wouldn't believe that i feel bad enough to do SI (i'm deathly afraid of being called an attention seeker)"



"I think the strangest aspect of self-injury is how _normal_ it feels when I'm doing it. I know hurting myself is not something other people think is acceptable, but I can cut long lines down my legs and not feel in the least bit weird. It feels like coming home."



"I can't decide if it's a good thing to get SI out into the open or not. If it wasn't for that one magazine article, SI probably wouldn't have occurred to me. I would be scar-free today. Also, I don't want it to become like depression, how it's almost like it's in vogue. It's a tricky subject, like suicide. Only with SI, no one else can prevent it, or stop it, except for the one who's doing it, so what do we need awareness for? Internet sites like this are good, so people who actually SI can seek out information for themselves, and frustrated kids won't start cutting themselves and getting all infected to get attention."



"My best friend keeps telling me "The harder you fall the higher you bounce" my personal adaptation on it is... "The higher you climb the father you fall, the farther you fall, the harder you splat." And I've found it's true, the more days I go with out SI.ing, the harder I relapse when I cut again. Her reply to this was a further adaptation... "The higher you climb, the farther you fall; the farther you fall, the harder you splat; the harder you splat, the more it hurts; the more it hurts the stronger you become; the stronger you become, the higher you climb; if you keep climbing higher, eventually you'll get out of the hole.""



"I have felt so alone in all of this... I know now that I am not alone or crazy. The past few months have been harder than all of the abuse, but I am growing and I will overcome the sicknesses of my elders."

Sharp and handy.

Two words I immediately associate with razorblades. Sure, one can shave themselves with one of those tiny devils, but they're so many more useful things you can do with them. Like the thing I'm about to do right now: cutting. And no, I'm not talking about me trying to make something arty, nor me like a stereotype fag sewing a new shirt. No, I'm talking about cutting in skin. In flesh, live flesh, my flesh. "Oh, that's wrong boy," you say? I know, don't tell me about it being wrong; I've been aware of that specific fact from well before I started. I don't care, not really. Or wait, maybe I do. I don't know, too confused right now to actually try to think of the fact that it's wrong and I'm aware of it. To get back to the cutting, I don't do it that often, really. Just once or twice every two months, more when I feel particularly bad or lost. But when I do it, I do it right. Deep, so blood comes flowing quickly. Swift, so I don't have to quickly pull back and mess things up when someone comes knocking on my door asking me if I want to come and watch a movie with them. Thoughtful, cause I don't want my leg to look like a scene from some bad low-budget horror flick, nor like "I thought bout it and I felt the need to cut the Mona Lisa in my leg, she's just sooo pretty!" I've got both the lower parts of my legs full of scars right now. Pretty big scars, I might proudly add. I like to identify myself with that sf-flick character I like so much from the movies, that rugged Wolverine, played by Hugh Jackmann. What a man… anyways, doesn't everyone secretly want to be a superhero sometimes? Fight for what you stand for, preferably with loads of sparks and smoke. Save the day, and in the end live happily ever after with the leading lady, or cute male sidekick in my case. Shoot me for daydreaming. To get back to the scars, the people I know and love can't help but notice them. Sure, I can go walking around in trousers the whole time, but that's just silly. So, they noticed. Good or bad? I don't know, yet again. It gave me the opportunity to talk to them about it, which did wonders for my self-esteem and self-worth. They showed a great deal of care and love, some of it surprising, some of it well, dare I say it, expected?! I guess I'm one of those people who needs others to acknowledge him. I can't handle compliments, nor people telling me I did something great. I can't handle it in person. I either get really uncomfortable or I start blushing like an over-ripe tomato. Not that I don't like it, I don't think anyone dislikes people appreciating what he or she does, but I don't know how to handle it. I'll be in heaven for awhile, until I realise, and this is not a plea for you to tell me otherwise; it's an objective observation, that I'm an all-round loser, trying to cover things up with my warm personality and bounciness. There's really no denial to it. I love my studies, yet I fail to put myself to work. And when the deadline is exceeded, I hate myself even more for letting it come so far. I feel the need to put in something funny right now in the text cause it's getting a little heavy, but I don't have the inspiration to do so, so I'll just continue like I'm doing now.

*some of my thoughts at the moment*

Jordi P. (jordi_on_the_road@hotmail.com)

[male, age 18, began to SI at age 16, Uni student]

I've made really bad choices in my life. I've hurt myself and a lot of my loved ones. I know that if I was given a chance to go back in time, I would change nothing. Most people think I'm insane when I say that, but it's true. I may not always like the person I am, but I can honestly say I have made every choice to this point and I think half of me trying to figure out who I am is to crawl out of this hole I've dug then brush myself off. However, I would go back to spend a day with my 9 year old self, to tell her that everything was not her fault. I'd let her know that things are going to get really tough. "You're going to get hurt, scared, rejecting and brought to tears. People are going to ignore you. You'll feel all alone without a friend. You'll find a friend in a stuffed bear named Ken who will be the only one to listen to you for years and you'll do some bad stuff. You'll lose all your friends, but don't worry because the important one will come back. People you trust are going to turn their back on you, but you have to keep on trusting others. Love you're Grandparents, because it's going to tear you apart when they're gone. Keep singing in the shower, and wish on every star. Most of all, remember, late at night when you're talking to yourself hoping some one out there is listening- I am. I'm right there with you and I will always love you. Baby, we can do nothing more than we can fix." I would hug her, let her cry with me and say over and over that everything will be alright.

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

When I was six I dropped a bowling ball on my big toe and broke it. Thinking about it now, I remember that it hurt, but I don't remember what it felt like. When I recall that incident with the bowling ball my toe doesn't start to hurt again. But that's the thing about physical pain, you can't remeber it, and it doesn't come back when you think of it. Emotional pain is different though, when you think of somehting that hurt you emotioally you can start to feel the same pain all over again. When the memory comes back, the pain comes back with it.

You can try and forget about the things that hurt you but sometimes the memories come back anyway. Or sometimes the memory leaves you while the pain stays behind, and you are left with all this pain that you either can't identify or can't control. When I SI I'm just replacing that emotional pain with physical pain, pain that I can control, pain that I can identify, and pain that won't come back.

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

Cutting warning label....

WARNING
....before you make that first cut remember. You will enjoy this. You will find the blood and pain release addictive. Even though you think you can make a few tiny cuts that aren't deep and will heal easily ...they will get deeper. They will scar. They will take sometimes months to heal!!! And years for the scars to fade! IF you think you can limit the cutting to one area of your body think again...it will spread when you run out of skin. Be prepared to withdraw from others and live in a constant state of shame. Even if you are the most honest person ever to live ....you will find yourself lying to the people you love. You will jerk back from your friends when they touch you as if their hands were dipped in poison. You will be terrified that they will feel something under the cloth of your shirt or because it just plain hurts so much to be touched.

Be prepared to get so out of control you fear your next cut because you don't know how bad it will be. Just wait for 10 cuts to turn into 100....Be prepared for your entire life to revolve around thinking about cutting ..cutting and covering up cutting And just wait till that first time you cut "too deep." And you freak out because the blood won't stop...and you are gaping....and you feel yourself shaking all over. You are having a panic attack and you are terrified but you can't tell anyone. So you sit there alone...praying it will be ok swearing you'll never let it go this far again...But you will and further. Don't worry, you will learn how to take care of your cuts so that you can go deeper and deeper and avoid the ER. And the better you get at treating your cuts the deeper they get.

You will lie to yourself and justify it when you find youself spending 20, 30 or 50 dollars every time you go the pharmacy. You will feel the flutter of your heartbeat everytime you go to the counter to ring up your order. Butterfly strips...3 or four different kinds of dressings... betadine.... antibiotic cream... medical tape... scar reducers..... You will tap your foot impatiently hoping the line will just move and no one will stare at you or wonder why you need all these things. And at the same time secretly hope someone will notice... someone who is standing in line with an armful of the same supplies... someone who understands but of course that never happens.
Medical supplies won't be the only thing you spend all your money on. Be prepared to buy a new wardrobe... longsleeve shirts in summer colors, bracelets, wristbands, boots... gloves... the list goes on and on.
You will start looking at everyone in a differnent way... Scanning their bodies for any signs of SI... just hoping that you might meet someone like you so you don't feel so terribly alone. You wont even think about it ... as your eyes scan their wrists arms... hoping just hoping they will be like you.... But they are not. You will see their clean arms and feel terribly ashamed and alone.
You will start doing a lot of things alone. You will always have to wash your laundry in private so know one sees the blood stains on your clothes and towels. You will always be cleaning up the blood... Scrubbing your bathroom floor... wiping the blood off your keyboard....

You won't be able to make it through a day without cutting.... Next thing you know you are in a public bathroom somewhere breaking open a scab with a sewing needle that you keep in your wallet for emergancies. When you get really desperate anything will be a cutting tool... scissors... a car key... a needle... a paperclip... even a pen. Doesn't matter what it is if you need to cut bad enough you will find something.

Say goodbye to things you took for granted. Like wearing shorts or sandals... pedicures... sleeveless tops.

A normal summer day at the beach or in a swimming pool will become a far off memory for you.

Get ready to itch. Beacuase you will itch and itch ..."so much you will look like you have fleas or a skin disease."

You will become an expert on your body as you destroy it carefully... You will dream about cutting... you will dream about being exposed. It will haunt you day and night and take over your life. You will wish you never made that first cut because while you absolutely HATE cutting...at the same time you love it and can not live with out of it.

you have been warned....

[female, age 16, began to SI at age 13, "lazy bum"]

Human society has come a long way in the last few years in accepting things that were previously deemed as abnormal/different/inferior, such as homosexuality and racial differences, but still there is this stigma attached to mental illness for a lot of people. When is it going to be realised that mentally ill people are not all dangerous 'nuts'? We are normal people with problems and deserve the same care and compassion as someone who suffers from a physical illness.

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

I wish more people would understand, or take the time to understand without passing judgement on something they themselves could never comprehend. I also wish people would not SI for attention; it makes it seem as if SI is superficial, not important, and not to be taken seriously.

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

it hurts. it hurts so bad. especially if your scared. especially if you know that its stupid. i know that cutting is stupid for me to do. i often feel selfish because i knwo there are people who almost deserve to cut because their lives are 10 times worse than mine. but, at the same time, certain people can only handle so much. and really, it depends on your situation. im at the peak of the stress and emotional pain that i can take right now. and so i cut to get rid of it all. i wish i didnt have to feel like i needed to cut...but its like breathing. you do it cuz you have to...you do it to live. weird comparison, i know, but it is. i love my wrists. i love my body. i love my life. but it doesnt always love me. and im sorry for that. im sorry that i go through pain like i do. and im sorry others do too. i would really like for the world to be happy and not have to hear baout suicides and depression and SI-ing so much. its a dark, underground world...and you don't wanna get caught up in it.

[female, age 14, began to SI at age 12, student]

One thing that I find so weird is that I can do this, in excess at times, and still know that I'm doing something so horrible, and look it up online, and know that it necessitates psychological help. But I keep at it, because, well, who knows? I think in some ways it verifies to me that I do have "problems," rather than me being confused about what in my brain is depression and anxiety that needs attention and what is just normal hormones. Like even though I might seem okay sometimes or I know that it's an incredibly unhealthy thing to do, I'm obviously still messed up enough to go through with it. And I find it very strange that I, perhaps in an effort to feel better about what I'm doing, think about what I'm doing in relation to the future. For example, I imagine myself talking to people about it, and helping other people. But I continue to do it. I imagine how great it would be to be forty and talk about how I overcame the patterns of self-injury, but I keep doing it. I think most people probably think that people who injure themselves are completely jaded. I think we are somewhat jaded, because, well, we deliberately hurt ourselves, but the image of delusional self-injurers who honestly think that what they're doing is great, while it may be true for some, is simply not accurate. I know what I'm doing. I'm not proud of it, and yet sometimes I am. I need help, I want it, but I'm not ready for it. I know that there are other ways to deal with emotional pain or anger, but I haven't found them yet. I'm a student, I get good grades, I love clothes, reading, movies, hanging out with my friends, normal stuff. I have big dreams, lots of plans. I don't spend my life writing angry or sullen poetry and talking about how the awful I am, which is, it seems, a stereotype associated with self-cutting. I'm not crazy, I'm not delusional.

[female, age 20, began to SI at age 13 or (cutting very recent), College student]

I just thought I'd mention my experience with Samaritans. I guess it's not their fault, but I wrote an e-mail to them in desperation, and I got a response about 3 days later that was basically a cookie-cutter letter, with no actual human response. Made me sick, and it triggered me badly, proving to myself that there was just one more person out there that didn't give a shit about how I felt.

[female, age 20, began to SI at age 15, college student]

I think I pretty much got it all on the 'Why do you SI?' question.

Otherwise...

Its a beautiful, yet twisted reality we live in. Non-cutters cannot see through our distorted visions. They do not understand why we do the things we do and often do not try to. It is up to us to help them to understand. Because without it, our methods of self-preservation will forever be shunned from societies view of 'normal'. We are normal human beings. We have problems too. We cannot help it if our coping methods are a bit different than others. We should not be ashamed, nor afraid, nor shunned, nor mistreated, nor hated for our actions. We want to be loved like any other. Believe in yourself and be honest - with yourself and others. Love and be loved. Acceptance is the key...

Im tired and rambling now..Goodnight, be safe!
-Kristen S.

[female, age 18, began to SI at age 6]

I just have something for those of us who SI to think about...Self Injury is just that, an act inflicted by one's self on one's self. It is something that many of us hold incredibly private and in a way, sacred, becoming offended that other people would intrude upon our personal selves trying to "help." Your actions affect only you, leave scars on only your flesh, and many of us wish to be simply left alone to our own devices. But those people who intrude, who try to thrust themselves inbetween us and our plight are not all just haphazard interlopers. There are still some truly caring souls out there; who yes, want to change you, but not simply so you can conform and "fit in" with the rest of society, but so that you can find peace and be happy. Make sure you know the difference before shunning everyone away.

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

I find it difficult to have talked about it but still not feel free or safe to talk about it even to people that know. Sometimes I find the other coping methods deeply unsatisfying but still hold on. What has changed for me is that I don't feeel as trapped as before. I feel that even if I do it again I managed to say it once I can do it again. I still very lonely but not as much.

The sound stops as she reaches the shore. The sound drops her, naked, her feelings bare but she is alive and restless. She puts her new stone in a pocket of her mind and goes on.
And finds love, perhaps...

[female, age 29, began to SI in her teens, artiste]

Im not sure what im supposed to put here... uhm I guess i just say how i feel. Well personally i feel very depressed, before i'd have up's and downs. I could be happy than all of a sudden i'd crash and id become so depressed. I feel like no one notices me, im just 'there'.I feel like i fail. Im not very good in school...much less anything? i feel like i fail being a friend and daughter. I feel i fail as a person. I really dis-like myself greatly. I don't find myself...in ANY way pretty,...i find myself ugly, basically a disgusting pig. People always tell me things would be better if i was gone, and i start to believe it. And i do believe it.. And i just want out of this. Out of feeling this. I hate waking up and feeling this void, this heavy feeling of crap. My friends say im Bi-polar... hm. I just wish i could actually find a reason not to...kill myself...Ive read/heard a lot but it doesnt change the way i feel, it doesn't make me ...not...want to kill myself?

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