I cut because I psychically want to see my pain. All of these painful thoughts run through my head, and i never get to see them. I cut because i want to look as broken as i feel. I want to look as scary as my thoughts are. I want to see blood when I cut. I want it to look bad when I cut.
I blame myself for a lot of things, for the reasons that i am alone. I become so mad at myself. I want to psychically let out my aggression towards myself. i DO NOT cut for attention. and i DO NOT cut because I think its cool. I Wish i didnt have to do it. I wish there was something i could find that came close to it. But i have yet to find it. I'm not sure im looking though. Im scared of not cutting.
I started self-injuring as a coping mechanism for my severe PTSD and depression, and my mild psychosis, in the wake of some serious trauma. But I continued to self-injure for the high.
When I hurt myself, I experience intense euphoria, followed by a lovely, calm, relaxed high which can last for a couple of hours, and then feelings of emotional detachment for maybe two or three days.
The detachment might be the best part because I find I become more uninhibited. After I injure, I temporarily become more confident, social, and even seemingly more witty and likeable because I am relieved of feelings of worry and tension which normally make it hard for me to function.
I wouldn't want to paint too glowing a picture, though. My activities have become life-threatening at this point. I wish I could be buzzed on pain all the time but I'm going to have to find a new way to go through life, or else I am certain that sooner or later this is going to kill me. I don't wanna say what I've been doing because I don't wanna give anyone else ideas. Just be careful, this stuff is bad news.
I hate every single thing about me. Some days are better than this, but today is bad. It's been several months since I last cut- and several months before that, and before that, a few years- but on the worst days I don't have any other choice. I can't kill myself. It would hurt my family too much and I know that. But I feel like I am the world's biggest failure and nothing I do is right and they would all be so, so much better without me, so I distract myself in the only way I know for sure will work. Then I sleep, and wake up, and cut, and repeat, and eventually I feel okay again. I cut because I know the okay days will come again- they always do- and I just have to do whatever it takes to survive until they show up.
Many medical professionals over the course of my hospitilazations and seeking for the right therapist have come to the conclusion that I was doing it only to get attention or that I "had to have been" sexually abused, both of which are completely untrue. No one really knows why I enjoy SI, but the truth is i only enjoy it only in the moment. While I have the razor in my hand the only emotion i feel is anticipation to the the blood running down my body. I dont know why, but if there's no blood i feel i failed. I tell myself i cant even cut right if i dont have a gaping wound that gushes blood.
Most of the time I cut when I am angry, others when i'm bored and have nothing else to do. Sometimes i'm so numb i just want to feel. Sometimes i'm so overwhelmed i need something to relax me. To me the blood expells all of the evil i have inside of me...all the built up pain.
The easiest explanation of why i cut: When I feel alone and scared, my razor is the best friend i have got.
I started when I was 13. I was never "that" girl. The one that everyone always said hi to. The one every guy wanted to get with. I was that chubby girl. The last one that was always the last one running in gym .The one that couldn't find a single damn pair of jeans or shirt that fit just right. I was always able to control in until this pass summer. I cut every single day. I started to hit the gym for almost a whole month straight, lost 14 pounds. I was still unsatisfied. I got to addicted about my weight that I forgot about hiding my cuts. My brother found them and told my parents.
My name is Gabrielle and I am twenty-eight years old. I began to self-injure at age fifteen -- so nearly thirteen years -- minus a two year period. This website was made to let self-injurers know that they are not alone and to help their friends and family learn more about self-injury and how it affects their loved one.
