Confessions Of A Cutter: My Letter To Cutting

When I was younger, I had no outlet to express my feelings, so I would cut. I cut a lot. Finally one day I decided to stop, so I wrote this letter. I encourage everyone suffering with this to do this. It was very helpful in my recovery

Dear cutting:

i never knew how much I needed you until three years ago. I always knew that I needed something more to satisfy my rage. Since I was a little girl I had scratched myself, popped myself with rubber bands, I pulled my hair out, I've even scratched my face and my head until it bled. Then I found that blade. That beautiful, wonderful metal blade. For three years, it was all I treasured. I used you to calm down and I felt that it was the only real way to express the terrible rage I felt. I cut when I was sad and broken, which was behind my anger. It got to the point where I cut even when I was content. I've never been happy, and you became my addiction after two or three months.

It took me three years to realize that I couldn't change my past, but I try to every day. I constantly try to criticize myself for what happened, and you were always there for me.

Thinking, reliving these things just makes me want you more; but I quit you. Cutting made me feel strong and in control. I couldn't change the past. I never could and never will. But I did cut. I cut a lot. I felt stronger at first, then ashamed. So incredibly ashamed. When I tried to cry, no tears came. So I cried bloody tears. It made me feel crazy and to this day I understand most of the reasons but not all of them.

I am here to say goodbye, once and for all. I will never forget the tears in my mom and step-dad's eyes when they saw my nearly skinless arm as I unwrapped it from my ace bandage that had hid my secret. I never want to see those tears again, and I never will. I quit you, three months ago today, and I'm here to tell you I'm fine. Slowly I am moving on. There have been times when I just have to hold my head in my hands and not let myself find a blade. I still crave you, all the time, but I refuse to allow myself to be a part of your guilt, your shame, and your lies. I refuse to take the easy way out and hide any longer. I thank you though, for numbing my pain long enough for me to figure all of this out. Without you I would have died, but if I was with you, I would be dying. So I must say goodbye. Goodbye, cutting. Goodbye to the security, the false control, the shame...and thank you for keeping me sane at my most difficult times. 

A recovering cutter
Etceteras Etceteras
18-21, F
Jan 6, 2013