[female, age 20, began to SI at age 13 or (cutting very recent), College student]
By Draco Malfoy,
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.
Person [female, age 20, began to SI at age 13 or (cutting very recent), College student]