It Was a Release, As They Say...

I used to cut. It actually started as a 'joke' when me and one of my friends back at school carved star shapes into our stomaches... but it made me feel better. It was somewhat relaxing to me, and so as the stresses built in my life, I eventually moved onto cutting my wrists. I never did it as badly as people who SI seem to. I was too chicken to (hardly ever) do it very hard, so I would just graze my wrist with the scissors, then go back and forth in a sawing motion for a minute. Waking the next morning, I would always pull back my sleeve and feel good about the scabs that had formed. I don't know why, that still seems weird to me. Anyway, I would normally wear a jumper to school, and it would make me feel good, knowing I had all those cuts under the sleeve that no one could see. I'd run my hand along the cuts and it would feel nice.

I guess at one point it became, maybe not an obsession so much as a 'solution.' I'd feel stressed, have a problem, a fight with someone, and I would be making marks on my arm again.

Eventually when I was diagnosed with depression and had left school behind (the reason for a lot of my problems), I was in a meeting to be, I suppose, evaluated, and the lady asked if I had ever self injured. My mum quietly mentioned that she had seem marks on my arms. By this time I remember that I hadn't cut for awhile, for whatever reason, and so when I showed the lady my arm, they were starting to heal. It didn't look as bad as it once had.

Regardless, she suggested I go to counselling, and eventually I went on medication.

It's years later and I no longer feel the urge to cut, nor have I in a long while. It feels strange sometimes because it's never really talked about in my family (though we are I guess in a way, 'selective' over the things we openly talk about). My sister doesn't know, but I know she at one time at least suspected I was doing it (when she asked me what was on my arm, years ago, and I lied saying it was from my cat). I don't know if my dad knows, but I don't think he cares-- and I know that sounds like an overreaction on my part, but trust me; he never even believed I was depressed, and one night when I ran away, apparently told my mum he thought I was being stupid and going to meet up with an 'internet friend.' The real events of that night consist of me seriously consider throwing myself into a car or simply dying in a ditch somewhere.

Cutting wasn't all I did though, I will admit. One night before school, because I had desperately wanted to avoid going, I got one of those portable heaters and beat my other arm with it. It was horribly bruised, but that's as far as I got. A few times I hit my head against the wall in frustration, and when I was trying to stop cutting, put a rubberband around my wrist and snapped it.

Thesedays I find the thought of hurting myself like that unsettling. I'm glad I have scars on my forearm to remind me of my past, one I hope never to return to.

Something that, admittedly, makes me somewhat uneasy is when during movies and TV shows, someone cuts themselves. I always become super aware of my mum (potentially) watching me, and/or worrying. Maybe she thinks it'll trigger me to do it again. I remember years ago when I first saw the movie Thirteen and my mum later found out there was a scene where she cuts herself. She didn't underdstand the significance of it and simply bashed it for apparently 'encouraging' people to copy it. I was insulted that she thought I had ever picked up some sort of 'trend.' When I had done that to myself, it had just come naturally. I didn't think of other people doing it; it was like I was the first person to ever cut myself.

Anyway, long gone are the days where I ever want to inflict that upon myself.

FateCantDecide FateCantDecide
22-25, F
1 Response Mar 24, 2009

My mum cuts herself, she has many on her arms, i have often thought about it myself but i can never bring myself to do it. i guess im just too scared (thats a good thing!!!)Its a shame you felt you wanted to though.