For as long as I can remember I used to bite down on my thumb when I got really mad. I never really thought too much about it til this summer...it was the beginning of my SI.
I started cutting when I was 17. A lot of people start younger, but that is when I started cutting. I was having major issues with my step-mom and then my boyfriend broke up with me. I wanted to die then. I used to cut my wrists and hide the marks with snap bracelets. They were never that severe anyways...I almost never broke the skin cos I just used a knife.
As things like this generally do, it increased. I would scratch with pins and needles. I wanted to bleed after awhile. I wanted to really hurt myself.
I began contemplating suicide. I imagined my family members coming home one day and finding me laying on the floor, dead, with a bottle of pills or a pool of blood and a knife.
Somewhere I came around and I quit hurting myself until things got bad again.
Things went off and on like this until April of my freshman year of college. My boyfriend and I were having issues and stuff. I started hurting myself. I tried scissors but they were too dull. So I took apart a razor. I remember doing it, accidently cutting my finger tips almost everytime I did it until I got smart I figured out a new way. That hurt. When I deliberately cut myself it didn't. I was scared the first time, razors are so sharp...but I did it anyways. They cut so easy and I fell in love with them. I would carry my razor with me almost everywhere. I had a little blue box that had rose petals in it. Such an ironic contrast.
My boyfriend hated the fact that I cut. He wanted me to get help. I didn't think I needed it. I had it all under control...
My RA, who I was also friends with, asked what was up cos I was acting weird. I ended up telling her the story of my cutting...she urged me to get help. I did not want to at this point. She ended up letting the RD know and they made me go see the counselor the next day...
I am not mad at her for this.
I realized things might be a little outta my grasp when I made over 20 cuts in one day...that scared me.
I told my parents. This scared my sisters and I had to live with my mother for the summer (I grew-up at my dad's house).
I didn't want to be at my mom's. I began cutting a lot. And, at times, deeper. I have cuts that should have had stitches. I have so many scars...My thighs are the primary place of my cutting.
I have not cut in a month now.
But I did pierce my tongue...
I was thinking about suicide over the summer. Like seriously considering it and everything. Then in the course of one week I found out my Grandpa forgot who my little sister was, my boyfriend couldn't come out as planned, and my ex hung himself.
With Ryan's suicide I realized how much it affects EVERYONE...I only dated him for a week and 2 days (his longest relationship at that point...his 2nd longest ever I guess...). I cried when I found out. Then I decided that I will never think about it again.
I am still getting help. I am at school now and I see the counselor here. I spent all summer going to see a shrink. But he was full of crap. He told me within 5 minutes of meeting me that I am depressed. How accurate is that?! My dad and the counselor here are wondering if I am bipolar...I will keep you all updated on what happens...
9/17/02
I cut last Sunday...a little over a week ago. Twice, on my legs...I can't really explain why...I just wanted to. I wanted to see the blood more than anything. But I knew I needed it...
I did think about suicide the other day...I can't explain what brought that on either...I was all hyper then I was really depressed...it was weird. And then I found out Nate wants to kill himself...that scares me...I guess he sounds really serious...Two exs in less than two months???
10/1/02
I haven't cut since then. But I really have wanted to. I spent time with Nate on Saturday. It was nice to see him. He says he doesn't know if he's suicidal or not anymore...
10/31/02
About 2 weeks ago I spent some time in the psych ward. I ODed on Zoloft. I was there for 4 days. It was wicked boring. I still think about killing myself. And I am still cutting. I am seriously considering inpatient therapy for a bit. I have been diagnosed as borderline and manic-depressive. I am on Zyprexa and Effexor. My cutting keeps getting worse. I wish I could stop but at the same time I don't. I'm sure other cutters know what I mean there.
11/19/02
I am still cutting. They keep getting progressively worse I have noticed. Almost needed stitches. I really don't wanna find myself back in that hospital. But life just sucks. I am still suicidal though no one knows it.
1/19/03
Well, it's been a month and 2 weeks since I last cut. Things are getting much better, I guess. I don't take my meds anymore. They were no fun. Almost made me bulimic. (I spent weeks puking up everything I ate to get my weight back down to where it was before my meds.) I dunno if I'll bother updating this site anymore or not...
2/27/03
Well, I am updating. I went 2 months and 3 days without cutting. Not too bad. The longest I've gone in a long time. Almost a year. But I've fallen back in. My body hates to bleed. Especially my arms. They don't release much blood anymore. I need to see it. But it won't let me. I'm so far gone. I'm so sick.
"the more a thing is perfect the more it feels of pleasure and of pain."~~Dante
We're reading The Inferno in my lit class right now. Great book. Until you are suicidal (luckily I have someone who talks me out of it) and you get to talking about the suicides. Dante says those who commit suicide spend the rest of eternity in hell, only able to speak through their own blood. What happens if this is how you already speak? Does this mean you are already in hell? Does this mean you are already dead?