Coonie said 10 years, 6 months ago:

Why do I cut? I can’t even explain it. It’s as if when I’m really hurt or stuck or depressed or anything such as that, I feel that it’s gonna get my mind of the pain. That the physical pain will hurt and I’ll focus on that. It’s like I take my anger and hurt and stress all out on myself and I just need something to do, so I do that. I feel like an idiot for doing it sometimes. And sometimes I wish that the people that hurt me would see it and realize that it’s not okay what they’re doing and they are hurting me more than they realize, and that maybe they’ll feel bad and care. Is that okay? I feel like it’s not. I don’t know what to think about it all.

XxI Love Black Veil BridesxX said 10 years, 5 months ago:

I cant really say exactly what started my cutting but i think it probably had something to do with the media. I ran into self harm blogs,etc. online and i also met people who self harmed. The whole concept of cutting became more involved in my life. And I decided to try it one day to see what it was like. I was feeling kind of lonely and I didnt have any friends back then. So my first time was when i cut up my thumb with a shaving razor and i found the whole thing interesting and amusing, and i kind of liked the way it felt.

After that i would occasionally cut up my knees with the saving razor. None of the cuts were deep and rarely left scars and if they did, they were the kind of scars that eventually faded within months.

During the Summer i was quite happy and i cut less and less and i went through a long time where i didnt do it or think about it. It was free from my life for about two months!

Then occasionally i would feel myself getting depressed and I remembered the feeling of cutting. But i wanted a better way to do it. So i figured out how to disassemble the shaving razors and i could cut deeper. I only did it once in a while around my hips so no one would see. The “emo” culture always appealed to me as far as the fashion went and ive ALWAYS loved hardcore music/metal/screamo. So when i started going towards that culture and changing up my style, my parents didnt exactly accept it. My mother kept insulting my music and bands and it hurt a lot because i view my music as a part of me. And i was close to some of the bands because sometimes they were like my only friends. So it really hurt when my parents would insult something that i loved so much. They insulted the way i was looking too because they didnt understand it. All of their reactions made me feel like i had failed in some way and they were dissappointed in me. It hurt because i felt like i was becoming who i was supposed to be and i wouldve been so happy with it but they didnt accept it. In so many words, my dad has basically called me a freak multiple times. So all of this made me want to cut and when i would dwell on some of their comments for a while, it would make me depressed and i wanted the release of cutting. But i still didnt do it excessively.

But then things in my house started getting bad. They are still bad. No one is ever happy here anymore and there is CONSTANT yelling and arguing. I still feel like i dont really belong here and now everything is just a mess. Its mainly my sister. I dont know whats up with her lately but shes literally been tearing this family apart. She cant function on her own with anything and the house is always filled with yelling. Im starting to hate it here!

I also have some friends who cut too. And i want to help them, and i dont want to leave them behind, but i feel like sometimes hanging around them too much triggers me. I know they need someone to listen and i want to be that person, but it takes a toll on me!

With the way things are in this house and the constant feeling of self harm hanging over my head with friends, i have never cut more in my life! Earlier just now, i scared myself because of how much blood i lost because i rarely cut so deeply all at once. Its getting bad and i dont know where to get help! I cant tell my parents because they already have enough to deal with and i just couldnt put them in that kind of pain!

Hopefully things will improve in the future. I dont think i can take much more of this!

MissMaddie said 10 years, 5 months ago:

I can’t exactly pinpoint why I did it, but I think it was more a mixture of things. The mix of pent up emotions, a mind that never stops, and loneliness is the best way I can describe it.

It was eight grade winter when I started. My best friend and I had been growing apart for sometime and we had just gotten into a huge fight. Looking back on it, I was in the midst of a panic attack as I sat in bed, but at the time I had no idea what was wrong with me. I didn’t have blade, but instead dug my thumb nail into my wrist as hard as I could and slide it across. I did this for a good half hour until I could see blood forming in little drops.

A year later, I had evolved from my nail to blades out of shaving razors and knives I could take with out my parents noticing. I didn’t do it much before ninth grade winter, only when I felt panicked. My friend whom I’d been growing away from had taken up the habit to, accept everyone knew about her secret. My other friends would talk endlessly about how worried they were about her, how she’s to beautiful to be hurting herself, how she’s going to ruin her future, how she doesn’t deserve the scars on her arm.

I would sit in my room and analyze everything they would say and wonder if they felt the same way about me. Did they notice the horrible scars on my wrist? Did they see how much I was beginning to struggle with everyday life? Did they not care? What made them care more about her than me? Do I deserve the concern they were giving her?

I had concluded that they didn’t. I continued on with my almost nightly dates with my blade until I realized I wanted to stop. I was still alone, I was still stressed, I was still worry ridden, but now just with cuts up and down my arm and stomach.

Tenth grade things got horrible for me. I was alone, stressed, guilt-ridden, and confused. I didn’t understand why I felt so sad all the time, so tired and anxious. I started to research it and try and figure out if something was wrong. At this point I would secretly pray for there to something wrong, just so I knew I wasn’t losing my mind. Bipolar disorder was the first thing that matched a couple of the symptoms I had. I told the only person I trusted at this point and I’ll never forget what she said.

“You think you’re bipolar? that’s a little ridiculous. nothing that bads really happened to you to be bipolar, but you should talk to your mom. ive got to go”

That killed me on the inside. I felt like fool for even bringing it up. I went to town on my arm that night, trying to get rid of the guilt, shame, embarrassment and self-hatred I had going on inside.

A week or two later, I was at basketball practice. My coach pulled me aside and gave me the third degree. She told me I had no right to cut because my parents didn’t physically abuse me.

“Your life isn’t that bad. You’re overreacting to nothing. Stop cutting yourself, okay? If you want attention I’ll give you more attention. Just stop being sad and you’ll get over it.”

I’ll never forget that either.

My parents found out during the spring and now I go see a therapist once a month. I found out I have depression and sever anxiety, so I wasn’t just over reacting to anything. Over the summer I moved my cuts from my wrist to my thigh. I was clean for almost two and half months, but Friday I relapsed unfortunately.

It was only a couple, but after word I threw my blade into a pond near my house. I’ve decided to quit for good.

Oli said 10 years, 5 months ago:

I’m here for all you beautiful people, you are all strong, brave, beautiful survivors. (hugs)

VivosMortuos said 10 years, 5 months ago:

I remember when I did it for the first time. All my life I was hurt and depression had come over me after 8th grade. Ninth grade came and I was still bullied. Verbally, sometimes physically, and definitely cyber. Everything was building up until that point. Kind of like water in a bottle getting ready to overfill. One day I had a major breakdown and the next morning I had scars all up my left and right arm. I hated it but the night I did it, it felt amazing. I felt like I could do anything. I did until summer came around. It got too hot to wear sweatshirts and long sleeves. It spread like a rash. It went from my arms to my stomach, and then onto my legs. I still hide it today because I still have trouble with it. And all that was only just this same year. February 21, 2013 I had that breakdown. But I know that I need to stop. You guys can too. ProjectHopeSuicidePrevention

Ailis said 10 years, 5 months ago:

I started to cut at first out of curiosity, when i did it i didn’t think it helped anything so i didn’t do it again.But one summer i started to become really self aware and self conscious about how i looked and how i acted and my major flaw my weight and i seriously started to hate myself so i started to cut on the top of arm and then gradually moved to my lower arm and wrist. I still feel the same way about myself and i still cut. But sometimes i think that i’m not even worth cutting that i don’t deserve it especially reading all these stories but i still do it.

Snow said 10 years, 4 months ago:

This will probably be hard to follow and seem like a lot of rambling but here goes. It started freshmen year. I thought it was because of social anxieties. But in reality it was because I was very unhappy and had been since “it” happened. I won’t go into “it” here. Cutting was the only release I was able to find. The only way that I could control the pain. It was like the physical took away the mental..even if it was only for a minute. The rush of the cold razor touching my skin, the dark red of the blood as it ran from my body, the thought of how quickly it could all be over had I truly wanted. Whenever I felt alone or betrayed or sad beyond belief for no reason..cutting was my go to. It has been almost 7 years since my last cut. I struggle with it every day. Some days are of course better than others, but I have found myself holding a razor or knife or any other sharp thing in my hand others, thinking “just this one”. And to be honest just because I haven’t cut in so many years, doesn’t mean I don’t still self-harm. It now more often comes in the form of punching walls or other inanimate objects. It is something I will forever deal with and something I feel I cannot tell people. They’ve always judged or secretly looked for signs in everything. It would just be nice to have someone on my side who wouldn’t run the first time they hear of it, or the first time I try to ask for help to get through a particularly rough day.