The Pain That Is PureI suppose that the easiest way to explain the beginning would be to look up my other story "The parents that were never there" - That would be the beginning.
Lets just say that because of what had happened to me, before my daughter was born, I kinda chose the same men that my mother did. I think that I could join a whole host of groups here, like depression, anxiety, etc. etc. Except of course ' I am a homocidal maniac' Thats going to too far. Although I was perhaps one to myself. Self destruction tends to be a symptom of abuse. Nice... If someone cant do it for you, do it to yourself. Mull over that psychological friends.
Anyway, my ex, wow what a winner, who also happens to be the father of my daughter, was a real piece of work. Talk about possesive. I wasnt allowed to work, talk to my family or even go outside. And when the fights started... Thats when I need an escape.
Thats how it started. The pain was too much to bear, so I cut myself. No one understands the feeling (except people in this group). What a bunch of depressing people we are. But it was calming. I coul think clearly. It was almost like taking things into my own hands. I was in control for the first time in my life.
When my daughter was born though, all this stopped. She is my saviour. Although when I am upset I tend to burn myself, or cut my finger 'accidently'. No one will ever know my secret. Except you.