Why I Turned To Cutting

Let's start with when I was little. My parents divorced when I was young- very young. So much I can barely remember what our family was like together. I have two older brothers and when my parents first split up they worked a lot (they still do). Me and my brothers went back and forth with our parents and we were left alone while they worked, well I was. My brothers never talked to me when I was little unless it was to say "go away" when I wanted to play. Remember I was probably four or five and had no one to talk to. I was alone and isolated from people since a young age. It's no wonder I'm antisocial now.
I wasn't completely alone in the house but it felt like I was. I think my brothers started talking to me when I was in 5th or 6th grade: More than four years of me on my own. Surprisingly enough I didn't pick up the real habit of cutting until 8th grade. In 7th grade I was stressed out trying to prove myself with A's in school because I was constantly compared to my brothers since I was the youngest. Both of them had straight A's and exceeded in everything while I struggled. Basically I was the disappointment child of the family and no one was that quiet about it. My mom tells me how she can't wait until I leave constantly and how I should go live with a foster family. The second semester of 7th grade I was so fed up I stopped trying and took the criticism -which got harsher- from my family. I guess there are times when you just have to stop trying because it hurts to much to hold on anymore. I tried venting my anger and sadness but eventually I picked up a kitchen knife but I couldn't do it- I didn't try anything like that again until 8th grade.
I had gotten into a huge fight with my mom the first time I cut. I was 13 and I honestly can't remember what triggered it but I went up stairs to my room and stayed there the rest of the night. That night I had a pocket knife and repeatedly cut my stomach for release, and escape- and I felt more in control afterwards. I didn't cut for a while after that- maybe a few months but eventually I couldn't stand it anymore. I used scissors, knives, razors, whatever I could get my hands on to stay in control and not go over the edge. I cut my wrist now- the left one- and try not to cut to deep most of the time. But cutting for me is what keeps me alive. If I didn't cut... I'd probably be dead by now.
I don't cut for anyone's attention and I hide my scars and almost no one knows I cut. I still cut today even though I try to stop. I hope in the future I can stop and my scars will fade- but for now I can't see it happening... Cutting for me has become an addiction that I can't stop and right now don't want to stop.
darkcelebi darkcelebi
13-15, F
May 13, 2012