I began self-harming very early – as soon as I had control of my body. I’m not sure what caused it, but I would throw violent fits where I would throw myself and bang my head against stuff. I cut for the first time when I was 4 due to stress from my family moving. Today I’m 20 and the scar still remains. When I turned 16, cutting became a major problem. I slashed up my forearm and did everything I could to keep my parents from seeing it. They eventually found out when my track coach told my mom. Soon after, I got professional help, but it only worked so much. I had suicidal thoughts which wouldn’t go away. Two years later cutting, burning, and bruising had become major addictions. I cut my upper legs until I ran out of room, but the problem spread to my hips, shoulders, calves, and ankles. At age 18, I slashed my wrist. The PTSD which resulted shocked me out of cutting for a year and a half – until I relapsed sophomore year of college. To this day I am fighting. I’ve made it one month so far, with God’s help. For anyone whose had these same thoughts, feelings, and tendencies, I am here fighting with you and to offer encouragement. You’re not alone.
I started cutting in middle-school. I always kept it hidden by doing it on my legs. I had a few other friends who were the same way, some of us were more extreme then others. I was bullied and harassed to no end at that time. I was constantly stereotyped because I was a girl who played football, I was a “geek,” and I couldn’t make many friends. Plus, at the time my family life was a mess with my mother having a possible affair and my sister having huge bipolar fits where she was willing to attack people.
I found out it was so easy to keep things quiet because people don’t want to know or believe such things happen near them. To keep myself off the radar as possibly falling back into cutting I even hosted a small group informational lecture to the class, at that point everyone believed I was clean for a year, but really far from it.
When I did start to recover and I was 2.5 years free I was used by a guy and I fell back into old spirals. I learned ways to hurt myself without thins being noticeable. I would burn myself with salt and ice, I would bite at my hand (I was a big fan of half fingered gloves), and I could find a way to fall and make myself get hurt. I had a “friend” who actually pinned me to a wall and slapped me around when she discovered what I was doing, since she was also recovering. It took close friends that actually understood and knew what was going on to help.
It’s been 3 years and today while cleaning I found the big thing of salt I used and I know once I get further back I will find my old razor blade. Today will be the day I will finally be able to throw the blade out and return that salt to the kitchen. I can honestly say temptations are still there, but I will not go back. For this reason I also want to be there to support and help others. No one needs to be alone and spiraling out of control. I will always try to be there to help.
I am someone who still self harms. and before anyone reads this it might sound stupid and it was really hard for me to write.
I was 11 when I started cutting. Unlike most people who self harm I started to cover up someone else’s doing. My father had tried to kill my mom and he went to jail at the time the way he tried to do it was by beating her and when I got home after he did I saw my mom looking like a scene from a horror film. We moved after after that and my mom was always pretty angry and I used to sneak out at night to get away until one night I was grabbed and rapped by two guys who had the sadistic pleasure of slashing knives down my legs and stomach. Not deep enough to cause real damage but still pretty bad they left and I went home bleeding and beaten and I got a steak knife and I didn’t cut my wrists at first but my palms because I was scared. I was no stranger to sexual abuse so I hid it rather than tell.
I never tried to hide it at school I actually flaunted it around because I was scared people would find out what happened to me. Eventually I stopped doing it to cover up what they did to me and started cutting because no one would talk to me and my mom was always yelling eventually we had to move in with my moms mother because she was too broke to support us because she wouldn’t work.
That’s when the cutting got really bad, I cut every part of my body from my toes ankles legs stomach back and my neck that’s when I got caught eventually I tried comming clean about being raped and my mom called me a liar and nobody would believe me and so they just said I was looking for attention so I kept cutting and my mom kept sending me to hospitals to try to “fix me” while I was in the hospital I would sneak in bobby pins and cut with them.
It got to the point where I would take small blades and stab myself with them and pop 5 tylenol to thin my blood so when I cut it would go deep and I would bleed and not stop for 15 minutes.
I would take a blade everywhere I went I even wore one on a chain so it would cut at my chest when I walked even after I quit I couldn’t be without a blade. I did eventually quit after 5 years and its been about a year and a half of no cutting for me but recently I started again.
I’m sorry that this all happened to you. I honestly stopped talking with people just because I didn’t want to open up with anyone about being raped. That is a major problem with today’s society: they don’t believe you or they find a way to put you at fault.
Quitting, is the most difficult thing to do. I had a councilor tell me that after a year free you shouldn’t have any problems, but I learned that was the biggest load of BS ever. Temptations will never seize to exist. I used to carry safety pins on belt loops, so I would always have easy access. I never had the courage to allow my parents to find out. When I was discovered they mentioned everything but the self-harm to my parents, kind of silly right?
Really, what I’m getting at is I know how difficult quitting can be. Then successfully quitting and returning to cutting can make quitting even more difficult. If you need talk or any help at all I am more then willing to listen, just message me whenever and I will reply as quickly as possible.
As a current self-harmer, I want to say thank you to everyone who’s posted here – it’s really given me encouragement to hear other peoples stories. Even having been in a psychiatric unit where everyone had at least been suicidal if not attempted, its surprising how much of a taboo talking about self harm is.
I am a relatively recent self harmer. I started december 2012 – my parents have been facing divorce for a while and christmas was incredibly stressful. i couldn’t tell you what made me do it – i was angry at myself, my parents, a rage i can’t even explain. i had an overwhelming urge to cut off my hip-length hair, but at the last minute knew i’d regret it and cut my arm instead. since then it has been a way of punishing myself. for not being good enough, for dropping out of uni due to my depression, for trying to kill myself, for having a bad day, for not doing enough on a good day. it got incredibly extreme very quickly – i didn’t realise how bad i was at the time.
having been discharged from hospital as an inpatient i have improved – i now only cut once or twice weekly as opposed to every night, but have not as yet managed to stop. my psychiatrist tries to make me promise not to and i just don’t feel like she understands how hard it is.
so thank you to all of you, for the first time i feel like there are other people who understand.
Me and cutting have had an on amd off relationship. The first time I did it I was in 7th grade with a pair of scissors. I only went deep enough to leave a welted line for about a week. After a couple months of that I stopped. I didnt do it again until my brother diee. But then I started using a blade to.a razor. I did it on my upper thighs where no one would see them. I stopped just before 8th grade started. Then I started again on my 14th birthday. This time it lasted all the way through most of my freshmen year. I finnally stopped and was clean for about a year. Then in my sophomore year i started again for about 5 months before I stopped at the moment I am clean and I feel happy.
It was always easy to brush of any scars people saw because I scar really easily so I have tons of scars on my legs from things that happened when I was little. My craziest on is the giant cricle scar on both knees I got when my brother was learning how to ride a bike with training wheels and accidentally ran over me on my tricycle
The first time I cut I was in 8th grade. I had grown up never being able to control my emotions. I would hide them for as long as I could and then I would explode for a very small reason. I had found out, on accident, that pain could focus me in a way that would allow me to gain control of myself. But I had never done anything with this information. In 8th grade I had had enough of not being able to control my emotions. So I took my house key and I dragged it across my wrist. It hurt but not in the way that I expected. I thought it would hurt like anything else hurt. The key hurt but it felt good in a way. I only did it once that year. My mom found out a week after I cut and I stopped to put her mind at ease. I found less visible ways of causing pain. Like digging my nail into various parts of my body. For 2 years I was able to refrain from cutting.
A month after my 16th birthday my parents were fighting nonstop. They would shout at each other while I was in the room. My brother tried to tell my mom that it was wrong of them to fight like that but she told him that if he didn’t like it he could get out. I learned from him and kept my mouth shut and pretended everything was alright. But it wasn’t. As soon as I could I would exit the room. If I hadn’t taken a shower yet I would take one then. I cried in my shower. I just sat on the ground and let the water hit me and I would cry. I was angry at my parents for fighting. I was sad that they were fighting. But mostly I think I was angry at my mom for making me pretend like they weren’t fighting. So when I had had enough, I took the plastic cover off my razor and dragged the corner across my skin. It hurt but it didn’t feel like physical pain. It felt like all that anger and sadness was leaving my body. Of course, it was only temporary. For four months after that I cut whenever the emotional pain got to be too much for me. The physical pain was far more manageable than the emotional. Eventually the fighting stopped and I was able to talk to my friends and they supported me.
In all that time since I had first cut myself I was also thinking about committing suicide. I knew somewhere deep inside me that I wasn’t brave enough to attempt suicide but it crossed my mind a lot between the first and the last times I cut. The last time I thought about it was the closest I had gotten to actually attempting to kill myself. But I realized that what I used to think of as weakness because I couldn’t commit suicide was actually strength. Somewhere deep inside me I knew I had the strength to keep on living. And I thank God every day that I found the truth in myself.
It hasn’t been easy and sometimes its downright painful to get out of bed, but I do it. And I survive. And I will continue to survive because I am strong enough to live.