I Can't Believe I'm Writing This......

The present situation…..



When I see groups and forums like this, I am always amazed by how



many of us there really are. It makes me wonder, and watch, at work,



the gas station, parties, meetings, customer contact…. How many are



hiding scars or bruises or healing marks of injuries they inflict on



themselves? How many freaks r out there like me?

    My name is Tabitha . I am 26 yrs old, single,  and according



to other people(not my personal view..) a very beautiful, wonderful,



entertaining, strong, awesome person. Those same people have, (and will



prolly do so again in the future) call me a *****, cold, heartless, selfish,



addicted, and yes… even a *****. (or variations of that word….) I have



over 200 scars, some barely visible, others as thick as a few of my fingers



and longer than most. I can't possibly tell u the  number of times I've



actually cut.  What I consider to count n what others  do usually aren't



the same.  I've had almost every reaction possible  over the years and I can



throw out jokes wit the best of them. In a way they helped me almost



perfect the carefree mask I wear so much. Many lessons in hiding them



from ppl, making excuses to others n myself, and patching myself up so



not a soul would know……. I despise this addiction, but……. I don't



know what else there is for me. There are bright days when I really feel



like I can put it all away and then……..one lil thing can ruin my



whole recovery.





the beginning....

    the only time i cut because of a guy was also the first time i



ever cut.well there was a lot more involved than just him.... he was my



2nd boyfriend, my first normal one. i cheated on him and when he



found out? he made my life a living hell.being that he was also my boss



at work along with several of his friends.... well- i think u can get an



idea.

    building up to all that though was the fact that i was already



insecure, being unpopular in school b/c we didn't originate there like



most families and being a nearly destitute family made it all worse. but



they still loved the products i sold them.... ;-). which put me at a party



a few nites after the whole cheating blowout, droppin off n sayin hi to a



few i actually tolerated. i parked behind a truck that ended up needin



me to move so he could leave. i pulled out and started lookin for a turn



-around spot . put on my right blinker then realized it was on the left.



So.... i turned without changin my blinker and felt the truck slam into



my driver-side door, spinning me into someones very well-manicured 2-



acre lawn. the truck  was the same one i had jus moved for and they had



forgotten to turn the headlights on so i didn't see them coming and they



thought i was turning the other way. they sped up to go around me and ,



surprise!!!! as everyone from the party ran away or to come see what



happened, i got rid of anything that might get me in trouble when the



ambulance showed up. a straggler, one of the few i called a friend, was



struck by a completely random drunk driver as he was runnin across the



road to help.  what are the chances? its a country ****** rd on the



outskirts of a place not even populated enough to qualify  as a



town...when my dad brought me home from the hospital, my mom was



sittin on the front steps, waiting. her only words to me? "the next time



you get into a car accident, i hope you're the one that dies." nice, huh?



(don't worry, we had been well-trained by then by our parents that any



outward reveal of our feelings and problems were duly noted and



unimportant  to the rest of the world, so better to keep to ourselves in



that concern...)

    i waited until they were in bed then grabbed every bottle i could



carry from the cabinet to my room, choked down as many as i could,



broke open a disposable razor and went to town on my forearms.13- the



most i've ever done at one time.it was also my first blackout cut session.



the only time i've not had a routine involved.....

    that was me at 15 ......

    since that, i have roller-coasted thru recovery and relapse in



cutting myself, along with almost any mind-altering substance i could



get my addicted  lil hands on.i've developed a routine to match the rest of



my little OCD, uh, issues. always a brand-new razor every time(



preferably the packs with only razor blades..... but if needed, disposables



worked if they hadn't been opened. always an even number, so if i get



what i need out of it or wake out of a blackout at 7? i will make



another cut no  matter what- even if i'm half-conscious and bleedin like



crazy already. always in front of a mirror so i can make sure both sides



of my body look fairly even at a glance. and to remind my self that the



outside might as well reflect my punishment. it makes a nice buffer



against people who think they can get close...sobriety doesn't factor in too



much, tho most prolly don't believe that. honestly tho, bein stoned seems



to be the only variant in my urges to cut. twice, mebbe three times have



i cut stoned...... those were bad nights. it happens the most when i'm



sober..... or twacked outta my mind. mostly sober tho... i try not to do



it drunk or after bein up a few days b/c blood loss is intense with my



cuts. never ever have or will i go to the hospital after that first time.



should've on most of them, at least for stitches. but then ppl wanna ask



questions.... nobody even notices if i'm wearing long sleeves and a high



enough shirt. you'd be surprised how much ppl are off in their own little



world.and you would be surprised t see how some react when they see or



find out.....

    as much as i hate them(my scars) i can't remember what i



looked like without them anymore. i know i have a cute lil body, nothin



special but pretty ok i think. everyone says that i have amazing eyes and



i'm a lovely girl and all that crap. i can be a great social butterfly 45%



of the time, a fairly entertaining ***** 50% of the time and perfect



girlfriend 10% of the time......100% of the time i interact with another



human being is a mask i wear. i will be who is needed at that moment.



or whatever persona will end up bein beneficial to me in the end.... only



it never is and i end up not knowing who i am and if ppl would even



accept whoever the real me is.....i certainly can't seem to.







scars....



    like i said, over 200 scars,some really white n faded.

 the first very first initial cut still has a scar about an inch long and



about as wide as an audio/video wire. its almost flattened back to skin



level. almost. my biggest one was about 10 months ago. my roommate



went out with a friend and my current... whatever... was sleep in in the



bedroom. i tried everything i could think of to not cut.... i tell everyone



it was a blackout cut, but i remember every second. i was so angry and



sad and .... i don't even know. i couldn't stop crying while settin up



and trying to figure out where i was gonna put this one. i remember



gettin so pissed b/c i was runnin out of room and just slicin my



shoulder as fast and hard as i could in a downward swing.i knew i



****** up the instant the razor broke my skin. for a looooong second, it



didn't bleed n i could see just how far i'd gone in. it was like the to side



of the cut pushed away from each other and i could see every layer down



to muscle  and a little into that....this all happened in the blink of an



eye and then i lost feeling in my arm as blood poured out of me. i



immediately felt light-headed, and almost collapsed  on the floor then.



but.... even numbers, remember? incredibly weak cut, that second one,



but that wasn't the point. i tried to wrap a towel around it  and wrap a



headband around it, but it just kept bleeding. its hard to fix one like



that alone. i tried though. put on a long sleeve shirt for when the roomie



came home. still could move my arm by itself. i was afraid to go to sleep



b/c if ur bleeding like that, the last thing u wanna do is pass out. i



finally had to ask my roommate for help and she almost threw up on me



 before she made it to the bathroom. she begged me to go to the hospital or



at least let a medic friend come sew it up. i will never forget the look on



her face when she saw how bad i had ****** up my arm......The present situation…..



When I see groups and forums like this, I am always amazed by how



many of us there really are. It makes me wonder, and watch, at work,



the gas station, parties, meetings, customer contact…. How many are



hiding scars or bruises or healing marks of injuries they inflict on



themselves? How many freaks r out there like me?

    My name is Tabitha . I am 26 yrs old, single,  and according



to other people(not my personal view..) a very beautiful, wonderful,



entertaining, strong, awesome person. Those same people have, (and will



prolly do so again in the future) call me a *****, cold, heartless, selfish,



addicted, and yes… even a *****. (or variations of that word….) I have



over 200 scars, some barely visible, others as thick as a few of my fingers



and longer than most. I can't possibly tell u the  number of times I've



actually cut.  What I consider to count n what others  do usually aren't



the same.  I've had almost every reaction possible  over the years and I can



throw out jokes wit the best of them. In a way they helped me almost



perfect the carefree mask I wear so much. Many lessons in hiding them



from ppl, making excuses to others n myself, and patchin myself up so



not a soul would know……. I despise this addiction, but……. I don't



know what else there is for me. There are bright days when I really feel



like I can put it all away and then……..one lil thing can ruin my



whole recovery.





the beginning....

    the only time i cut because of a guy was also the first time i



ever cut.well there was a lot more involved than just him.... he was my



2nd boyfriend, my first normal one. i cheated on him and when he



found out? he made my life a living hell.being that he was also my boss



at work along with several of his friends.... well- i think u can get an



idea.

    building up to all that though was the fact that i was already



insecure, being unpopular in school b/c we didn't originate there like



most families and being a nearly destitute family made it all worse. but



they still loved the products i sold them.... ;-). which put me at a party



a few nites after the whole cheating blowout, droppin off n sayin hi to a



few i actually tolerated. i parked behind a truck that ended up needin



me to move so he could leave. i pulled out and started lookin for a turn



-around spot . put on my right blinker then realized it was on the left.



So.... i turned without changin my blinker and felt the truck slam into



my driver-side door, spinning me into someones very well-manicured 2-



acre lawn. the truck  was the same one i had jus moved for and they had



forgotten to turn the headlights on so i didn't see them coming and they



thought i was turning the other way. they sped up to go around me and ,



surprise!!!! as everyone from the party ran away or to come see what



happened, i got rid of anything that might get me in trouble when the



ambulance showed up. a straggler, one of the few i called a friend, was



struck by a completely random drunk driver as he was runnin across the



road to help.  what are the chances? its a country ****** rd on the



outskirts of a place not even populated enough to qualify  as a



town...when my dad brought me home from the hospital, my mom was



sittin on the front steps, waiting. her only words to me? "the next time



you get into a car accident, i hope you're the one that dies." nice, huh?



(don't worry, we had been well-trained by then by our parents that any



outward reveal of our feelings and problems were duly noted and



unimportant  to the rest of the world, so better to keep to ourselves in



that concern...)

    i waited until they were in bed then grabbed every bottle i could



carry from the cabinet to my room, choked down as many as i could,



broke open a disposable razor and went to town on my forearms.13- the



most i've ever done at one time.it was also my first blackout cut session.



the only time i've not had a routine involved.....

    that was me at 15 ......

    since that, i have roller-coasted thru recovery and relapse in



cutting myself, along with almost any mind-altering substance i could



get my addicted  lil hands on.i've developed a routine to match the rest of



my little OCD, uh, issues. always a brand-new razor every time(



preferably the packs with only razor blades..... but if needed, disposables



worked if they hadn't been opened. always an even number, so if i get



what i need out of it or wake out of a blackout at 7? i will make



another cut no  matter what- even if i'm half-conscious and bleedin like



crazy already. always in front of a mirror so i can make sure both sides



of my body look fairly even at a glance. and to remind my self that the



outside might as well reflect my punishment. it makes a nice buffer



against people who think they can get close...sobriety doesn't factor in too



much, tho most prolly don't believe that. honestly tho, bein stoned seems



to be the only variant in my urges to cut. twice, mebbe three times have



i cut stoned...... those were bad nights. it happens the most when i'm



sober..... or twacked outta my mind. mostly sober tho... i try not to do



it drunk or after bein up a few days b/c blood loss is intense with my



cuts. never ever have or will i go to the hospital after that first time.



should've on most of them, at least for stitches. but then ppl wanna ask



questions.... nobody even notices if i'm wearing long sleeves and a high



enough shirt. you'd be surprised how much ppl are off in their own little



world.and you would be surprised t see how some react when they see or



find out.....

    as much as i hate them(my scars) i can't remember what i



looked like without them anymore. i know i have a cute lil body, nothin



special but pretty ok i think. everyone says that i have amazing eyes and



i'm a lovely girl and all that crap. i can be a great social butterfly 45%



of the time, a fairly entertaining ***** 50% of the time and perfect



girlfriend 10% of the time......100% of the time i interact with another



human being is a mask i wear. i will be who is needed at that moment.



or whatever persona will end up bein beneficial to me in the end.... only



it never is and i end up not knowing who i am and if ppl would even



accept whoever the real me is.....i certainly can't seem to.







scars....



    like i said, over 200 scars,some really white n faded.

 the first very first initial cut still has a scar about an inch long and



about as wide as an audio/video wire. its almost flattened back to skin



level. almost. my biggest one was about 10 months ago. my roommate



went out with a friend and my current... whatever... was sleepin in the



bedroom. i tried everything i could think of to not cut.... i tell everyone



it was a blackout cut, but i remember every second. i was so angry and



sad and .... i don't even know. i couldn't stop crying while settin up



and trying to figure out where i was gonna put this one. i remember



gettin so pissed b/c i was runnin out of room and just slicin my



shoulder as fast and hard as i could in a downward swing.i knew i



****** up the instant the razor broke my skin. for a looooong second, it



didn't bleed n i could see just how far i'd gone in. it was like the to side



of the cut pushed away from each other and i could see every layer down



to muscle  and a little into that....this all happehed in the blink of an



eye and then i lost feeling in my arm as blood poured out of me. i



immediately felt light-headed, and almost collapsed  on the floor then.



but.... even numbers, remember? incredibly weak cut, that second one,



but that wasn't the point. i tried to wrap a towel around it  and wrap a



headband around it, but it just kept bleeding. its hard to fix one like



that alone. i tried though. put on a long sleeve shirt for when the roomie



came home. still could move my arm by itself. i was afraid to go to sleep



b/c if ur bleeding like that, the last thing u wanna do is pass out. i



finally had to ask my roommate for help and she almost threw up on me



 before she made it to the bathroom. she begged me to go to the hospital or



at least let a medic friend come sew it up. i will never forget the look on



her face when she saw how bad i had ****** up my arm......

kprwam kprwam
26-30
Mar 2, 2010