Its the only escape I knew
I was raped less than a month after I had turned 16. My first real boyfriend had broken up with me right before my birthday and of course I did not know what to do. This guy that had just graduated invited me and my friend to a party that I thought was gonna be bigger than what it really was. The “party” was actually the four of us and unknowingly the worst mistake of my life. The guy that was throwing the party had just graduated that year and was somewhat popular or you could say well known. I had never been drunk before in my life but the drinks just kept coming and he kept hitting on me without me realizing at the moment. The next thing I knew he was on top of me and I was saying no with no luck. I remember crying on the floor in the bathroom, at that moment I decided that this had never happened.
Drugs and alcohol was my main coping methods until one day in October. Something had happened and in a blind rage I took apart one of my razors to shave my legs with. That first feeling of the skin breaking apart and the relief that came with it was something that I knew I could not give up. I had found my new coping method, cutting myself. The exhilaration of every cut that I got was so addicting. I then started keeping a razor in my purse, my car, and anywhere that I could think of just in case I had that urge to rip open my wounds with that piece of metal. Not only did it help me feel better but I felt that I was releasing all the anger and frustration I had in this world. It was better than anything I had ever felt in my life. I would only cut on my legs but then I started running out of room and ended up destroying my arm with multiple slashes. Cutting became an everyday thing of my life just like taking a shower every morning or going to school. I just had to do it and nothing was ever gonna stop me.
I got caught and was hospitalized and realized what I was doing was not right. Hurting myself is not the correct way to deal with the pain that I go through everyday. Yeah, suicide has been on my mind more than it should but then that means that I lost and he won. No one should ever go through the pain that I have suffered through for over a year. Being raped took away everything that I had in me and now I can not help but hate myself. Cutting gave me something to be proud of. That sounds awful and now that I say it, I’m ashamed I even said it but I can not help myself at times. Those scars all over my arms make me sick to my stomach. I can not go a day where I try not to hide them up or in the summer when my whole body is exposed. It is disgusting. Yeah, they are my battle wounds but they are also a sign of my weakness. I still cut at times. I slip into those dark holes where I can not seem to climb out and that is when I turn to my razor, hoping that it will shed some light upon me. It does not anymore these days instead I feel worse. Cutting was my way to survive this world but now its just dragging me back in the depths of the hell that I made for myself. I want to stop and I hope everyone can stop too.
Person [female, age 17, began to SI at age 16, highschool student]