5 Years A Cutter, Six Months "sober"

I was in sixth grade, depressed. I didn't know at that point that kids my age could "get" depression; I just thought I was a screw-up who deserved everything I was feeling. An oversensitive victim of bullying, what I was feeling was low.

I had heard that some girls cut themselves when they got upset. I didn't know what it was supposed to do to fix it, but I figured if it worked for them, maybe it would work for me. So I tried it once.

Twice.

Hundreds of times.

I tried several times to stop, but it was too addictive. Any time I got upset, I went to the blade.

I always vowed I would never be a damsel-in-distress, but in the end, a boy was the reason for my recovery. He played the if-you-cut,-I-cut game. I didn't want him to cut, so I stopped cutting. Then... one thing led to another, and I started again.
This time, I tried to hide it from him, cutting in places not generally visible, but in a moment of, ah, grown-up activities, he found out. He cut off said grown-up activities till the marks faded, and vowed to do so again if this happened again. So... I stopped, for good.

I'm not with that boy anymore, but he gave me so much in my freedom from the blade. I'll never forget him, or stop being grateful.
SpazzAvalanche SpazzAvalanche
18-21, F
Aug 6, 2010