Stories

If you want to put your story onto this website, please don't hesitate to email me. My email address is at the bottom of this page.

I am going to start by writing down my story, and maybe add others in later. This is going to be really hard for me to do, but I figure that it is something that I have to do to completely heal.
I was born in September 1984, and I had a very happy childhood until I was eleven years old. That summer was the first time I was sexually abused by someone very close to me. I didn't tell anyone until that following year. I told my best friend who convinced me to tell my parents. I told my parents, who took me to the doctor and then nothing else happened.
When I was thirteen years old, I went to visit them again. I think I wanted to prove to myelf that it didn't actually happen and that he was the great person that I wanted to remember. It happened again, this time worse, and it took me a longer time to tell my parents.
That year was the first time that I self injured. I can't say I remember the first time, but I know how I cam across it. My best friend at the time did it, and I figured that if it helped her feel better, maybe it would help me feel better too. It did and I kept doing it. When I finally told my parents about the abuse, they sent me to a psychiatrist. I didn't tell my parents about the cutting, but eventally told my doctor. Things go the worst when I was in grade eleven. I was cutting about 20+ times a day, not sleeping, taking caffeine pills and not eating. I was also sexually and physically assaulted by two guys at a bus stop, which was very hard to deal with. I couldn't understand why it just kept happening to me. I don't remember much else from that period in my life.
I don't know whether or not this is a success story, and I believe that it is too early to tell. My parents know about the self injury now, and surprisingly took it very well. I have amazing friends who I ended up telling, and they told my mother and father and although I wasn't impressed at first, I don't want to think about where I would be now if they didn't. Things are starting up again more recently, and I am not sure how to handle it. I am only cutting every once and awhile, and it's not nearly as bad as it was in grade eleven. I am dealing with something else that happened to me, something that I am not ready to admit to on here, and it's been hard. This is partly why I think that self injury is a life long struggle, because it just doesn't end, a lot of work has to be put toward stopping.

I grew up with my father who was an alcoholic. My mother died when I was very young. My dad was really nice when he wasn't drinking, but when he drank he hit me a lot and called me names. This scared me.
I first burned myself when I was fourteen years old. I don't really remember why, it just sort of happened. I wish that I could stop now but it's hard. It has an addictive quality to it.

As a child, I had a good life, loving mom, caring (some) friends, basically happy, normal childhood. Notice how I didn't say loving father, he wasn't really around much until like when 6 maybe 7. But when I was 11 or 12, I was over @ a friend's house and she decided to take a shower or bath. She was in there for like 3 hours. I called her name and she didn't answer. So I tried the door and it was locked, but she had one of those cheap locks, so I picked it and i found her there in the bathtub w/ bloody water. She cut her wrists and she died. I just wanted to die right there. She was my bestest friend in the whole world. I called 911. The paramedics came but they couldn't save her, she was already dead. Dead. Death. Die. Those words have changed my life. After that I wasn't able to sleep. And then 2 years after that, I was in a VERY bad relationship w/ a guy I knew and trusted. We were going out for @least 3 months when he started hitting me and calling me names. After about 2 months of this I knew it had to stop, so I ended it. But that wasn't the end of it, I still loved him. I don't know why but I did. When he wouldn't take me back, it hit me hard. That's when I started cutting. The cutting got so bad that it wouldn't help w/ that situation. So I did the next thing, I tried to commit suicide by ODing on Tylenol P.M.I was sent to a mental institute after that. I had to stay @ the mental institute for like a month and a half. It was bad. But that didn't help..... I thought I was just doomed to live a miserable life. But when I repeated (which i'm still doing) 8th grade, I would have to say that was the best thing that ever happened to me, believe it or not. I met Amy, Gracie, Renea, Josh (which I met last year), and believe it or not Johanna. They changed my life for the best, sorta. I don't cut as much but then again I don't cry either it just shows a sign of weakness and people can get ya w/ that and you cry. But Josh said "Are those B@st@rds worth it?" I never really answered that in my heart but I told him no. He's like a big brother to me. And Amy and Gracie are my bestest friends now. And I don't know how Johanna fits in this picture but she does, Me and her aren't really friends anymore but I still care about her. The reason I cut now is b/c my uncle died in the Pentagon Terriosm, my cousin is dying from Muscular Discrophy,who live to see his 16th B-day, and my aunt is dying from liver cancer who probaly won't live to see me turn sixteen or her daughter for that matter. my cousin is dying from Muscular Discrophy,who won't live to see his 16th B-day, and my aunt is dying from liver cancer who probaly won't live to see me turn sixteen Well this is where I stop for now. Feel free to e-mail me at Hotty4carz@aol.com Alice

Not all people that self injure have been abused. I don't remember when I started, it seems a life time ago. I wasn't always this way, I used to be a very different person. I often wonder why the people in my life never noticed the changes that, to me, are so obvious. I won't tell my parents, and I won't tell anyone who would tell them. Its not that I don't love them, its just I know that they wouldn't understand. They don't even understand when I am sad. It seems that I have always struggled with keeping from being anorexic, and have kept from it, but bairly. I don't remember why I started cutting, but I know why I do it now. I don't feel realand the pain and blood helps that, also I NEED it. It calls out to me, and I can no longer resist. Perhaps I could have when I had just started, when I was younger, but now I can't. It is addictive. I recently told my boyfriend that I cut. It makes him sad to know, but now he is helping me try to stop. I love him very much, and I don't want him to be sad because of me. I don't know yet if I will be able to quit forever or not. Only time can tell. In the mean time I deal with it day by day.
Jennifer

It's been 2 and a half years since I started cutting. I remember what set it off but not exactly why I chose cutting. I wasn't ever abused physically, but I was mentally. My father did it. I am very smart and my grades are always above 95. But he was always calling me an idiot or retard or cussing at me for doing little things. He never said any of those things to my brother. The day I started he was very angry at me because I was fighting with my brother. He wouldn't listen when I tried to tell him that my brother had started it and he kept cussing at me. I was only 13 at the time and I got so angry that I just ran down to my room and locked the door. I remember finding a knife about an inch long and just cutting at my ankle until I felt better. I didn't cut on my ankle again after that because I played sports and people would notice, so I started on my arms. No one noticed because the cuts started out so little. But they grew in size as did my problems. I felt so worthless all the time because of my father and my mother didn't try to stop him from saying these things. My brother may be younger than I, but he is bigger than I am. He's constantly beating me up and giving me bruises. People started to take notice of my cuts in the eight grade, but I always made up some excuse for them. They readily believed me because people always saw me as the smart, happy one. Soon my feelings inside became overwhelming and I cut more and deeper. Numbers, letters, names, words, anything with meaning are etched in scars on my upper arms now. I never put them where people can see them. But not my wrists are getting cut more. I never want to commit suicide. I'm too afraid. But my cutting seems to make everything ok for now. Only a couple of my friends know. They really don't care. They like to think that their lives are perfect just like their friends. So they all pretend it doesn't happen. Although I do have one friend that also cuts. She thinks I'm out of control. But that's a lie. I can stop it for as long as I want. I stopped all last month. But of course this month is worse than ever. Maybe I am out of control, but for now I don't care. It feels I can finally control my emotions with this. I never cry. I feel that it's weak and people can control me if I cry. So I cut. But I'll always have a screaming inside that won't die.

Sara

I'm a biter. I've only been doing it for a few months, but I already want to stop. My family life has always been a bit strange. Until the age of 7, I lived in a single parent home. My mom got married then, and we lived in suburbia. I am an A-/B+ honors student. Self-harm was a way for me to escape. It has served as a way to talk myself out of suicide, a way to punish myself, and a way to make my pain tangible. It gets to be awfully scary sometimes, simply because I can't stop. I feel like I want to go to some sort of meeting and say out loud, "I have a problem." Last night I made one of the most wonderful people in my life cry because he was so worried about me. One of my friends was begging me not to do it last night, and I wanted to stop, she looked like she was hurting so bad, but I couldn't. I'm seeing a pyschologist now, but I still can't stop. It hurts, but I thought I'd share my story because there is an abundance of stories about cutters, I just thought I'd share one about a different type of self-mutilation.

I'm writing this right now because at the moment I want to cut. I figured that if I could fill my mind with this, it would prevent it... or at leas delay it for a while. I am the classic teenager to everyone that knows me. The fun loving, loud, happy girl, the MVP of the swim team, one of the well-liked girls. Not very many people know that in order to stay happy, I cut my wrists. I don't remember, like many others, when or really why it started. I personally blame most of my mental problems on my mother because, since I am big enough to hit back now, she uses mental abuse to "keep me in line." I know that it is not her fault though... she doesn't control my hands when I cut. I do know that a long time before I started cutting, my wrists would burn and I feel the overwhelming need to cut, but I never would. I was afraid that it would hurt, or that it would leave terrible scars, or that my friends would find out, etc. I guess one day, I just gave in to it. It didn't, and still doesn't, hurt. I told my best friend in April what I was doing. I told her because I was crying... and i figured that if she had already seen me in my moment of weakness... she might as well know the rest of the story. She calmed me down by telling me jokes and fun memories... that is when I told her. She was so suprised and taken back by the scars that I showed her on my wrist. She didn't ask why at first... she just stared at me in utter disbelief. Her first question was "How did you hide this from me?" I suddenly felt very guilty about the whole situation. Then she started to cry... she went on about how I could have called her, I could have done anything, she only lived a mile and a half from me, I could have come to her. I wanted to burst. I didn't cry though... I just looked at her... I wondered why she was so worried about me. It's not like it hurt me or anything. We talked for a while as I remember it... but the next thing I know, she had me confessing to my guidance counselor. Now, you must at this point realize that, in NC, guidance counselors have a limited confidentiality rule. Technically, if someone is hurting others or THEMSELVES... they are required to tell someone. At first I refused to admit what I was doing... I knew that she would tell my mother. My friend made her agree to keep this from my parents if I told her. She agreed and I spilled the story out once more. This time I did cry... and I don't know why. It was probably because I hate people knowing about my secret problems. I enjoy being thought of as "normal." It was also probably because I realized that I would have to conceal any new cuts very carefully. Before I left her office, she made me agree to seek counselling and if I failed to do this, she would "be forced to" tell my parents. That wasn't too long ago... and at this point I am still cutting... and truly more often than before. I now where a thick banded watch to conceal the new scabs, and avoid my counselor's office the day after a bad night of cutting. I have sought counselling... and my first appointment with a psychologist is next week. I will most likely have fresh scars for him to examine... I want to stop. I really and truly do. It is much harder than many people make it out to be. I'm not sure if I will ever just stop completely... and I don't know if my wrists will ever stop burning forever. I hope they do one day... I want to be the "normal" teenager that everyone thinks I am.

Kelsey

Her Story.
Sitting at the edge of her bed, she holds her stomach tight and leans over her weary body to gasp for breath. Tears flooding down her face, she is in hysterics. Why had she been chosen to live this life of suffering and disappointment? Was it never going to end? Just as one dagger is pulled out, another is fired into her heart. It is too much. Slowly, she picks her self up and wipes her face, she heads down stairs. Suicide follows her every move, whispering in her ear “It’s never going to end, you have been destined to live a life of fear and torment, there’s no way out.”
Searching for the sharpest blade, she finally finds the victor, a small 4 inch kitchen knife, gift wrapped for her, ready for collection. She stands for some while, thinking hollow thoughts, staring into what could have been her future. It is quiet, the peacefulness is broken by the silence and slowly, oh so slow, she drags the blade across her wrist. Nothing. Something inside of her, deep within her heart of hearts must have wanted her to live. Something inside her subconscious, knew she deserved better than this. Tears still flowing down her blotchy face, she turned her arm over and dragged the knife across, a little deeper this time. Suddenly, a flow of blood emerged from the sliced skin. It felt so good. It felt so good watching the blood run out of the cut and drip onto the floor.
She was instantly brought into a state of ecstasy, where the vale of hurt was removed. Everything was white and void and had no meaning, only pleasure and release was here. The blood ran slowly. By the time it dripped, the blood was cold and it felt like paradise.
No amount of counselling or ‘talking’ could give the relief this did for her. No amount of crying could free The Tormenter inside like this did. Searching for a fresh piece of skin to cut that hadn’t already been soaked in blood, didn’t prove difficult. She drags the knife through the 6 month previously scarred skin. Immediately the skin splits and blood bursts through . She cocks her head to one side and smiles like an innocent child. She made a game of it, what stream of blood would drip onto the floor first?
Then, reality checks in, the adrenalin stops and she is taken out of her state of ecstasy. The vale of hurt is replaced by a cloak of heaviness and the pain starts over again.
The game ends and the pain begins, she washes clean the blood off her arm and floor, before replacing the knife back in its discovered position.
Crawling up stairs into her bed she rests her tiered, shaken body.
She has never felt so alone.

Alison (15)

Brainless and Stupid.

The crusted blood, tares the hairs out off my tightened skin as I wake and roll over onto my back. It stings and throbs. My hair sticks to my face with dried tears from the night before, every blink burns like acid in my eyes. My bed lay preserved and untouched as the couch had been the closet thing to me. My back and legs ached as I had spent the night on the kitchen floor, hugging my knees, in the corner of the room, only to have dragged my self up off the floor at 7:30 am to rest upon the couch.
I lay there and counted the encrusted cuts, one, two, three....thirty five.... forty-five ....fifty-four. Fifty-four cuts all the way up my arm and on the underside.
I closed my tear filled eyes only to experience again, the fear and shame I felt from only four hours ago.
It was my fault, I didn’t say no. I let him do what he had to do and stayed in silence. I was so brainless and stupid! I have no one to blame but my self.
I hurt, it bled. My brand new white top was ruined, he streaked blood across it as he ran his hands over my body again.
I have only God to thank, I wasn’t raped that night, or even murdered. I have only my self to blame, for what I did let him do. I don’t think I can ever forgive my self.

I am writing this because i need to cut and i figure if i write this, it will at least delay the need and feelings.

My life was never truly happy, my dad used to drink a lot and use me as his emotional and physical punching bag. i was always scared to death of him.

My uncle started sexually abusing me when i was about 4 or 5. It didnt stop until i was about 12. I didnt tell anyone until last week, i am 15 now. I couldnt tell because he was my moms brother, everyones favorite uncle. He lived really close and always came over.

3 months ago i was raped when i was walking home from school in the middle of the afternoon. ever since then i have been cutting, burning and doing anything to stop the pain.

a month after i was raped, one of my teachers noticed how upset i was all the time, and my cuts and told the guidance counsellor, who told the vice principal, who told childrens aid, who told the police, who told my parents. Everyone thinks i am crazy.

I used to be the "perfect" one, smart, athletic, popular, funny, despite my childhood. Now all i do is cut and cry, i want help but no one listens to me ever. sometimes i scare myself and want to die so bad that i cut my wrists. my mom doesnt wanna take me to the hospital, so she just wraps them with gauze. everyone thinks i am insane, who knows, maybe i am. well thanks for listening, or reading whatever. no one ever has ~*Traci*~

I am 14 and a half, and I would count myself as a cutter. When I was 12 I tried to kill myself after I had been bullied and lost my best friend. I took many many asprin, but for some reason I woke up. Although I was very ill for about a week. I was very happy for a while. Well not always, but I would never show my feelings. I have never showed my feelings. As a young child I would never have tantrums but bottle up all the pain inside me. I first read about self injury in a magazine and I just passed it over as some thing like rape. Which is terrible but would never happen to me. In November 2001 I tried to kill myself again. I was very upset because life had no point and every one seemed wanted except me. I don't really know what else was wrong. I took a lot of asprin again hoping that this time it might kill me. After about 30 asprin I made myself sick.
I should add that from the beggining of September, I had seen myself as very fat. I was on my way to an eating disorder, and I had made myself sick before to get rid of the fat. I hardly ate and I had no confidence. Nobody saw my feelings but they were all very worried about the not eating. On Monday 10th December 2001 I was sitting in 2nd period (religous education) when I was fiddling with a pair of scissors and they slit my hand. Just a small cut, but I knew I had done it, and I began to do it over and over again. That was the first time. My friend Sophie saw it and would not excpet excuses that I made. On Thursday I went to my first concert when I was there the boy I had a crush on saw my arm and was very very upset. I went home and cut again.
Since that time I have got worse and worse. I have no self esteem and I tried to kill myself once at a party when i was very drunk. However I was stopped with a rope round my neck. My parents have never found out about the cutting or the suicide attempts. I asked to be sent to my GP because I was not feeling happy. She sent me to a therapist who I lied to about every thing. I have now finished my time with my therapist as she believes I am OK now. All my friends that knew about the cutting and "depression" believe that I have quit and that I am OK now. I always feel alone. I often drink alone or smoke weed alone just so I can get out of my own head for a little while. I can't stop cutting and I wish I had never been born, but I was and I will just get on with my life. I can't be happy so if I get it over with quickly. But at least I am not hurting any one else any more. I am a mess.

Ruth

I don't think i've ever said tomyself that I'm a cutter. I dont think i ever realized it was something to be. I started when I was 7ish after my mom had made me feel like i was a waist of a life and didn't deserve to live (she probably said those things that time as well) and probably was hitting me. I went to go kill myself but being just a kid thought that the only way a person could kill themselves with a knife was by slitting thier throat and that terrified me, so i practiced on my arms, then legs. I think it became some way to gain some kind of controle, somehow. That i was now incontrole of distributing the pain i deserved, though sometimes it was remind myself i was still alive. I never cut very deep, i always kept in mind about getting scars (although that didnt nessesarily prevent them), and how i could ever explain it away. I spent a huge part of my childhood depressed and scared of people, all I ever wanted was to live on my own away from people. I was safe when I wasnt being hurt. Of course when your 7 its many years before you can actually leave. When I was 12 i decided I would use my parents to pay for school and be able to save myself that way so i could leave on my own one day and be ok when I did. my mom scared it into me of all the horrors that would happen to me if i ever did leave. I didnt tell a single friend about any of it, not about being hit or kicked or being called the most horrible things and made to feel unloved and unwanted by everyone (and was flat out told this too). I finnaly told a couple of good friends when i was drunk within the last year (im now 20). I stoped the more or less when i was 13 or so and no longer kept a knife under my pillow. However things are not fixed in my life, not perfect. Though most of the time I think things weren't really that bad, things arent that bad, i really should be happy. But that thought never seems to be enough. And i still scratch and cut a little at times but not often. One day I will be happy, someday. Until then there is a whole world to figure out how to live in.

I cut myself about five minutes ago. I always count them. I put them down in a little book I have. Somehow, someway, I seem to think it may help me. But I'm wrong. 80 on my right arm, 20 on my left arm. I'm left handed so it's easier to cut. I started doing this about two months ago. I didn't have a reason this time. I didn't have a reason last time. People always ask me why. They say "Why would you do something like this?", "What were you feeling at the time?" You know what I was feeling? Neither do I. Do you know why I did it? NEITHER DO I! Everytime I tell somebody about this they tell someone else. They pass it on to another person so they can deal with it. Nobody wants to deal with me. So I've stopped telling people. But I'm sick of it. I tried to get help at my school before through a counseling program they have and they wouldn't take me because I cut myself. They wanted to pass me off to someone else too. I AM NOT A FOOTBALL. STOP PASSING ME AROUND! DEAL WITH ME!! I NEED HELP. It makes me so mad. I was abused as a child. Sexually and physically. I don't want to talk about it.
Sara

I started SI-ing when I was actually 9 years old. I remember being so angry and depressed over some things that I scratched up my cheeks bloody on two different occasions. I didn't get back to that until I was 14, about a year ago.

It's strange, because even though I harm myself, I really don't think that I'm a cutter, or whatever terms there are for the things I do to myself. I wasn't physically or sexual abused, no one important to me died, my parents didn't get a divorce, you know, nothing like that. In all honesty, sometimes I feel that I'm so selfish because I shouldn't be doing this. I dont have any problems serious enough or big enough for me to do whatever I do to myself. I'm just self indulgent like that, buit I have to be, because the world owes me nothing.

During 9th grade, I was being bullied a lot. People who were buddies with me before would turn around and dismiss me as a friend. The worse was one people I didn't know would come up to me and start saying things. I rememeber one time when I was riding a public bus home, a guy sitting near me with his friends started making fun of my clothes and my hair. I had never met him before in my life and here he was exclaiming, "DAMN! You're so ugly!"

Eventually, in order to stop hearing or thinking about the things people would say about me, I started cluttering my mind up and making things really foggy in my head, so that it would be hard to think staright. I can't quite explain it. Even now, people describe me as flustered and easily confused or dazed, because there's so much static in my head. Not coherent thoughts, just static. I suppose that's one of the reasons why I do what I do. To focus... I guess. To clear my head.

It wasn't just that, however. I started suspecting that I could have been suffering from dysthe... whatever that less severe version of clinical depression is. I distincally remember back in third grade sitting in a bathroom stall sniffling. I also remembered that nothing upsetting had happened to me, but I just felt like being alone. I've somewhat dissmissed that idea and chalk it up to my self pity/indulgence and teen angst. I have been feeling sad, bored, and a bit lethargic since I was 13 years old, and I'm 15 now, but I suppose it's something everyone goes through, and I'm no different.

It's also the fear of death and dying that makes me do this. I do not want to die, and I have a hard time accepting that this is a part of life. It depresses me to think that whatever I do now won't matter 60 years down the road when I'm in a nursing home wearing diapers and drooling on my bedsheets. When I die, it won't matter that I got a C in Math, or I wore whatever clothes I did or held whatever job I had. It won't matter that Rachael is my best friend or James, Kyle, and Andrea my enemies. Yet, at the same time, I don't want to reach old age. The only way not to reach old age is by either drinking from the fountain of youth or dying young. Which is exactly what I don't want to do. Get old and die. It's all quite pointless, so I abuse myself instead.

Even now, as I write this, I have the urge to trash this story completely and just go back to my own world. I can't stand writing, let alone writing about how I feel.

Monica

It started just last year. I had my reasons, and at the time, I felt like dying so what the hell, right? I've heard about people not killing themselves but just cutting themselves to make them bleed. In an odd way, it appealed to me. I didn't want to die, but I wanted to hurt and not hurt at the same time. I was extremely confused and frustrated. It took me some time to produce a acceptable tool. I originally used the sharp end of a mechanical pencil to carve into my skin. It didn't produce much blood, but it satisfied me for a moment. My house contains no boxcutters, razors, or sharp enough knives. The knives were too dull to do any damage; I've tested them while setting the table on numerous occassions. I finally was able to steal away a shaving razor and break out the minute razors. It was acceptable for a time. I often cut up my fingers just trying to hold it. Anyone who reads this who knows me would be shocked, appauled, frightened, and all that. I don't seem so dark, depressed, and morbid around them. They know me as their friend who's always happy, never cries, always smiles, has a joke to tell, laughter always heard from me. They know me as the shoulder THEY cry on. I have no shoulder but my own. I was taught to hide my emotions, don't show weakness or fear. I was hardened by this. It makes me hard to open up and let people know the real me. My emotions are like a one way door, everything goes in, nothing comes out. Many a time I've cryed myself to sleep just thinking. I'm deeper than most would imagine. Everyone sees me so aloof. If they only knew. I cut because it stops the numbness. I feel again; I'm forced to feel. Now everyone would wonder what brought me to this. It's simple and typical of most that cut, I think. I've heard a lot about alcoholic fathers, and guess what? I got one too. I wouldn't mind as much if he was a silly or funny drunk; one that wasn't violent and mean. It was like a routine, the day would be good and when my father came home, it was like living in a whole new world. Strict, drunken, tourtured. My mom, brother, and me were probably his release from the grief from the loss of his father when he was 12; many many years ago. He won't admit he has a problem. He "taught" me how to not feel. He never cries, he'd yell at my brother and me for crying. He never hit me either. My brother was a different story. He'd fight my brother, make my brother punch him in the face and chest, and hit my brother back occassionally. He is and was an asshole. He'd then complain that my brother hurt him. My mother would always argue, scream, and fight(verbally) with him, one of the reasons why he drank. My brother and I would dare not talk back to him, for fear of being hit. It almost seemed like he took joy in strangling our childhood. He would often go on and on til the hours of the morning. I'd sit there, sometimes try to stop him, from hitting my mother. His side of the family is all fucked up as well. His brother's crazy and "depressed" for 2 years now. I would sit there crying as he threatened to hurt and divorce my mother. It seemed like dying for them to get divorced. I loved him still somehow, before I knew of his drinking. When I was little, he was so nice. He overreacts too. You can't get a word in edgewise. I hate him now. And it always gets worse before Christmas. How are you supposed to be merry in my shoes? He always told me I was worthless, a waste of a life, useless, untalanted, fat, ugly, a bitch, a whore(certanly not me), and other things he didn't like about me at that moment. Always putting me down. The best part of all this was that he acted like nothing happened the next morning and then wonder why the house was basically trashed. The only reason my mother stayed with him is because of me and bro. She always wanted us to finish out the school year at the school, but before you knew it, another one was upon us. The other resons why I cut is because of all the little things that overwhelm me. I see myself as stupid, fat, ugly, basically a piece of shit not deserving of a pulse. Out of a few reasons that keep me alive are that I'm afraid of dying. I go into hysterics thinking about it. It increases my pusle, I freak out, hallucenate, and start crying. Through all this, I managed to lead a perfect double life. I could be the greatest actress. Friends and others suspect nothing. I also keep a suicide note, just in case. Does anyone else reading this?

-J____ 13(female)

I'm 18 years old, and have been cutting for 4 years, I also overdose with paracetamol. I'm not sure why I decided to cut myself, I think it was over something stupid, like how messy my bedroom was. I put my hand through a glass window, and then I was sent to see a psychiatrist. Then I started cutting... I started off by cutting about 5-6 times a day...

In 1998, my mother died... it was a paracetamol overdose, I was just 12 years old. In 1999, I took my first OD, up till this present day, I haven't been able to stop... ODing is getting out of control. Over the past 9 weeks, I have OD'd every week.

Since 1999, I've had over 19 sections under the mental health act... 8 sections 1.36's, 2 sections 5.2's, 3 section 3's, and 7 section 2's.

To any one who understands even remotely:
I was borne in 1987 here in Bethlehem PA..
. My parents have physically and mentally (but never sexually) abused me since I was borne. For years, I'd try to hide it. And I did. Very well, I'd say.
I've been bullied since I first started school because my parents never taught me English, only Greek. So I did not know how to communicate and people found that as a threat. Stupid kids. I've also been a tomboy all my life. So people have called me gay a lot. They can all kiss my ass.
When I was about 6 or 7, I discovered the flute. For the longest time, music was my only escape. I taught my self at that young. I was ridiculed even more because every one was jealous of my ability. I never really had any friends. I later tried learning the violin as an escape....
That worked for a while.... Then things went out of control. I was I believe 8 or 9... I couldn't accept reality. People hated me and so did my parents..... I had a butterfly knife that I use to play with. It made me happy with all the pretty things I could do with it.... That was my original tool. I remember that in a fit of anger I carved the word "Stupid" in my left arm. Soon after I started smoking marijuana. After a lot of scars and lots of problems, my straight A's fell to F's my last year of middle school.... The abuse was the most horrible at that time.
Last year, I entered Liberty High. I started swimming on a team (my school's) again and I love the water more than a lot of other things. Swimming's just a great sport. I've almost become anorexic the past two years, but I guess it comes with the sport... I also discovered music all over again. Thanks to a teacher, believe it or not. I won't elaborate on him now because I can't or I'll lose it. I realized how STUPID I am. Ever since, I've valued music more than anything else. My dreams of becoming a music teacher are what is keeping me going. It's taken me the past two years to realize how much music is the greatest thing in the world. I still cut on occasion... But that teacher notices every time and helps me out.
I don't know where I'd be without the Liberty High Grenadier Band.....
I'm currently in 5th chair on flute and last on violin (the head director hates me and gave me a zero). I got within 2 points of making District Band this year and I am one chair off of being in 1st Company..... (and honour band) I could've never imagined any of this a few years ago.
Last night, I just played another solo with the combined women's choir at the Spring Orchestra and Choir concert. I admit to having eaten some weed before to calm me down... And I carved the word "moron" in my leg afterwards. But I say I've made progress. I let everyone down last night by going to the concert not completely sober, but that performance was my best ever. Solos make me feel better sometimes.
I plan to take college classes next year to be able to get my degree in music ed.
Music is the only thing keeping me from cutting most of the time now. I'm gonna be a Junior in High School next year... And according to my choir director, there's more solos ahead. Before yesterday, I was clean for almost 10 months. And self-injury-free for almost 8. Writing helps me deal with my self a lot. So for those who think that's it's impossible to stop, pick up something. A sport, music, art, writing... Anything. And love it like a child loves candy. That's the only way to get out with your life. I've also been running http://socialreject.sytes.net . My website. It keeps me happy a lot.
Thank You for reading this,
-Sofia H

Hi I don't actually self harm myself but I know five people that do or have done in the past, all of which I care about a lot. One is one of my best friends; I still don't know why she cuts herself to this very day, I think it is for many reasons altogether, and her description of it is that it helps her to get away from the fact that she hurting herself. This may not make sense but that's the logic. Another is also one of my best male friends, who was cutting himself because me and him had had an argument. I felt so bad because he was hurting himself purely over me. Two others who cut themselves aren't necessarily my best friends but it upsets me to see them doing it all the same. And finally, my ex-boyfriend bashes his wrist against the wall and makes it really red and sore. Some people may say this is not self harming, but he does it every time he gets the slightest bit upset - which is quite often - and his main aim is to hurt himself because he doesn't believe in himself and he doesn't think at all highly of himself even though he should. He is only hurting himself because he loves me and I will not go out with him. Even to me this is hard to understand but for him I suppose it must make sense. It upsets me so much to see him like this because I still care about him loads but I know that the only thing I could possibly do to help is go out with him. It's a difficult situation.

Catriona

I was reading over your site and i thought maybe it would be beneficial if i shared my story. No one understands. All my friends are so smart and talented. I try to talk with them but all they say is "just stop doing it, it aint that hard". I grew up in a single parent family after my dad walked out on my mom and I. He was a heroin addict. After that things went from bad to worse. I was diagnost type one diabetic at the age of 3. For those of you who say that isnt a serious illness try pumping in 10 shots a day, thats no exaggeration either. I spent most of my childhood in hospitals until my mom stopped caring and let me deal with it myself at home alone. My mom began drinking and soon turned into an alcoholic. Everything she said to me was cold and mean. I felt unwanted. Then When i was 13 relief came in the form of a little white pill. So begins the chapter of drug abuse. I went from pills to powder to anything i could get. Passing out, throwing up, nose bleeds, ect. I Got sicker and sicker until easter of 2003. I almost died. laying in the ICU for 4 days until i was moved down to pediatrics.after i stopped the drugs i reliized how many people id hurt and abandoned in search of happiness. No one wanted to deal with a recovering drug user so they left. One night in mid July i got chewed out real bad by my mom. she said she hated me wich is powerful words. I found a razor and chopped my arm into a bloody mess. It felt good the inner pain was gone. Now 6 months later my life is about scar creams and cover ups. I cut as much as i can . Everytime i try to stop i end up giving in and slashing my hip bones. If that wasnt enough Ive stopped eating almost everything trying to lose weight. I see a f*** up when i look in the mirror. Or if i cut i see a bloody mess. Thanks for listening. if anyone wants to talk my e-mail is amber111688@msn.com. thanks again

Hi, my name is Matt and I have been self-injuring for half a year now. I am 15 now, my girlfriend has been cutting for over a year now so its been pretty tough. On top of that one of our friends was raped, another is currently addicted to cigarettes and has an abusive boyfriend who pressures her into having sex, another friend who cuts and might be sent to a foster home, one of my close friends also self-injures by hitting himself pretty hard and has some very large bruises on his arms and legs. All of these problems with school work included has contributed to these suicidal thoughts and actions. By cutting we are able to feel physical pain which reminds us that we are alive and it seems to make the emotional pain go away. Also the fact that it makes us feel like we can control this pain to adds to the addiction. Every day someone has a new problem and drags everyone else down with them to this bottomless hole filled with hopelessness and despair. Seeing my friends like this makes me want to cut cause i wish i could just wish away all their pain forever but i cant. I cant help them, they have to help themselves but they are to depressed to do so. I cant help but feel guily about all their problems and this leads to self-injury. Ive found that one thing thats extremely important is not to look at what you dont have or how much your life sux but to see what you DO have, and see what you LIKE in your life. Sometimes its really hard to do so with so many problems in your life and you seem to overlook so many important things, like your family and friends for example. Since i started cutting i couldnt really talk that much to my parents, i found it easier to talk to my friends. But talking to my parents helped a lot. They now understand how i feel and can help me with that instead of being frustrated with how to deal with this. Another thing i foudn that helps is, when your with your friends you generally want to talk about how much your life sux, and how your life is worse than everyone elses. Then everyone else will dissagree and say how much their life sux, so i try to avoid such situations. Instead i try to keep the subject were talking about on happy things, for instance, having a party at someone's house and watching movies, eating, ect... Also, being able to say "yes my life does suck, but that isn't going to stop me from being happy and enjoying life", can help because you wont let things get you down. You can care TOO much about your friends at some points, when their having a bad day you let yourself be dragged down with them. What i have done is told a teacher, guidance counselor, therapist, or basically any adult about their problems, then its outa my hands. All i can do is just be there for them and show them how much their life DOESNT suck. Getting over cutting hasnt been easy, ive stopped self-injury completely as of 3 weeks ago, but that doesnt change the fact that i still have these thoughts and urges to do myslf harm. Thats where thinking positive comes in, if your able to divert all this pain and suffering away, even if its just for a few hours, and forget about it it helps. Even just for a few hours you are capable of having fun and enjoying life, which gives you hope that your still going to get through all of it. I guess that i'm writing this to share my own experience with cutting and self-injury to see if it can help others that are feeling down, and hopeless. The most important thing ever is to NEVER give up, no matter how bad life seems you continue to try and beat this. By doing that yourself you can inspire your friends to do the same. Healing these wounds isn't easy and it takes time to get over all the damage done, but learn to enjoy life, and talk about how much you like it instead of how much you hate it. Well i just had to let out how i feel about this matter since im still trying to get over all the stuff that ive seen and done, and i hope others can do the same.

---Matt D.

my parents love me and always have. but that doesn't matter sometimes. since i was about 6 until i was almost into 6th grade i was sexually abused by another kid about 6 years older than me. i was fine i pushed all the pain out into nothingness, until 9th grade. the police came and talked about sexual abuse to our class and i realized everything, all the horrible things. for nearly a year i broke down and cried, i would walk for hours and hours, just listening to music trying to walk away from everything. finally one day in school out of boredom i carved an anarchy A in my arm with a pencil and it was the best feeling ever. like everything had escaped while it was hurting, the inside hurt i couldn't control was showing itself in a controllable manner. thats where it started and from that day on i constantly cut. i cut if i was sad, angry, annoyed, even bored. if i couldn't sleep i would cut. the only explaination i can ever give anyone (who are my friends who also used to/still cut) is that its a pain i can control, i can say when i want to hurt, when i want to bleed and when i don't unlike the pain inside which is constantly there. when i was 17 my boyfriend made me tell my mom about what had happened to me, it didn't really do any good, just for her to know. i doubt she still remembers. my boyfriend has made me stop. he basically said whenever you do it i will. and he doesn't understand why i need it. so i still do it sometimes. in secret places or in overly obvious places and blame it on work. and then i feel better for a week a day an hour. i need it so bad especially now when everything feels like it is falling apart and there is nothing i can do about it. if i wasn't going out with my boyfriend i would fall back into all my old habits. i guess this isn't really a story, just a rant to try to release the pain in a new way. i don't think it will work.

~adina

I started cutting right before I turned thirteen. I don't remember exactly what had happened to make me want to. All I remember is ruming up my stairs and grapping a razorblade. I only cut my wrists at first, then I moved to my thighs and eventually my arms. The first time I did it my friends got really angry at me and tried to get me to stop. I didn't realize that it hurt them too. They would always ask me if it hurt, but it doesn't. I cut for several more months and then started dating an awesome guy who made me promis not to cut myself anymore. I had quit doing it for like a month, but then one day I just so angry and severed my arm. I told him the next day and he started crying. I was really scared that he was gonna break up with me, but he didn't. He was shaken for quite a while, and he still gets sad when he sees all of my scars, but I thank him alot for staying and helping me. My mom died when I was nine, and I don't know if that has contributed to any of my problems or not. Every now and then I wonder what it would be like to have a mom, but my boyfriend's mom has been wonderful to me so I kinda know. When my dad noticed my cuts, I told him that my cat had attacked me and made up other stories, and he believed me. When I finally told him the truth, he told me to go get ready for church and has not mentioned it since. Social workers came to my house once to talk to my dad and try to make him get me counseling, but he didn't do anything about it. The school counseler had sent home lists of people and called my dad several times, but he doesn't do anything, and I hate him for that.

~Kjre

I'm writing this right now because at the moment I want to cut. I figured that if I could fill my mind with this, it would prevent it... or at least delay it for a while. I am the classic teenager to everyone that knows me. The fun loving, loud, happy girl, the one who plays sports, one of the well-liked girls. Not very many people know that in order to stay happy, I cut my wrists. I don't remember, like many others, when or really why it started. I personally blame most of my mental problems on my mother because, since I am big enough to hit back now, she uses mental abuse to "keep me in line." I know that it is not her fault though... she doesn't control my hands when I cut. I do know that a long time before I started cutting, my wrists would burn and I feel the overwhelming need to cut, but I never would. I was afraid that it would hurt, or that it would leave terrible scars, or that my friends would find out, etc. I guess one day, I just gave in to it. It didn't, and still doesn't, hurt. I told my best friend in March (i think) what I was doing. I told her because i was really depressed & i thought that if i had told her that i wouldnt go cut.......She was so suprised and taken back by the scars that I showed her on my wrist. She didn't ask why at first... she just stared at me in utter disbelief. Her first question was "How did you hide this from me?" I suddenly felt very guilty about the whole situation. Then she started to cry on the phone... I wanted to burst. I didn't cry though... we just sat on the phone it was QUITE...i dont think she knew what to say & i didnt either.... I wondered why she was so worried about me. It's not like it hurt me or anything. We talked for a while as I remember it... but the next thing I know, she had me confessing that i wouldnt do it again. .then the next thing i new like 4 of my friends bew about it they were crying & askin me y & i couldnt really explain it to them cause its confusing...i didnt know that my friends cared about me so much.i have had my friends tell me that they wouldnt know what to do if i was to die, that they love me & stuff like that it makes me feel good when i hear that from them!!!i really want to stop but at this point I am still cutting... and truly more than before. I now wear a wrist band to hide the new scabs, I want to stop. I really and truly do. It is much harder than many people make it out to be. A LOT HARDER!! I'm not sure if I will ever just stop completely... and I don't know if my wrists will ever stop burning forever. I hope they do one day... I want to be the "normal" teenager that everyone thinks I am.

Stephanie

I'm now 16 and have had a very difficult life but not as difficult as some.
Well all through elementary school I was bullied. I never knew why but now I know it isn't my fault. One of the girls that had bullied me was hit by a truck. She came back for the 4th grade Valentine's Day Party and she was actually nice to me. I couldn't believe it.
In 7th grade I made the biggest mistake of my life and lost a best ffriend because of it. I really regret that now. My family always goes over to my grandma's house every Saturday. One Saturday when I was in 8th grade I weighed myself on her scale. Well, as a result I felt I needed to go on a diet.
The following Monday for lunch I had pineapple. But I didn't have a fork and I refused to ask for one. I told my friends and they said I would be hungry later. I told them no I wouldn't. But they were right. That afternoon I think I had a bag of mini-muffins and I don't recall if I had dinner or not. I told my parents I wasn't hungry. At the time I was also fighting with them.
Also in 8th grade I had to deal with 9/11 which was hard. My aunt was stationed in Damascus - which is in Africa - which is also right next to Asia. I was frightened she would be hurt which she wasn't.
On November 11 a strong member of the school's community died, a classmate's father. He asked you how you were but he wasn't just asking to be polite he really cared.
During the spring of that year one of my friends with one his friends was caught smoking on campus. They were suspended for a while then came back. Now he goes to a millitary school somewhere.
For 9th and 10th grade I went to boarding school. In 9th grade I had a great group of friends most graduated or left the school. I started cutting in 9th grade but hardly anyone knew. It was on my arms with needles and pins. I also dieted again but my friends talked me out of it.
Then came this year 10th grade. Which was a lot worse. I cut throughout the whole year with my pocketknife. On my arms, mainly my left one since I'm right handed. I've never actually slit my wrists but I've always wanted to see what it would be like.
For the first time ever I will admit that I wanted to be one of "them". A cutter. And I was.
I remember one day I had a silent mental breakdown in one of the bathroom stalls. I stabbed my knife repeatedly into my arm untill I drew pools of blood. That helped, at least then. The breakdown and the cutting.
I always had to be careful to hide my cuts, which is why I always wore long sleeves, even in warm weather. I hated telling people and I didn't want to. I mean what could they do? Nothing. And if the counsellors knew they would tell my parents. I wanted to have a chance to tell my parents before anyone else knew.
I wish I could say that no one ever knew but that isn't true.
During spring - March, April & May - I told my friends. That wasn't the right thing to do. Everyone else was too busy with their own lives to try to help me. Which is partly why I never wanted to tell them.
On March 31st I was sent home. For thoughts of suicide, which I had tried to commit several times. The adults at school didn't even ask my opinion. They were obseessed with reading my journal which they absolutely had to know about. It's my personal life and they had no right to read it. Well my thrapist and I reviewed it and she told the school. After awhile I was sent back to school. Everyone though I was ok.
I wasn't. I cut myself even more. I was on Lexapro and Ihad a lightbox but I was still cutting.
I talked to the counsellors and they sent me home again during May. For good. I didn't even get to say good bye to everyone. They didn't want to have to deal with me. My mom said if I ever feel like cutting I should talk to her. Well I don't. I just continue cutting. People can only help so much. I think that cutting helps more then people. My parents didn't even pick up on the hints.
Before I left I had to give the counsellor and my r.i. all the things I had used for cutting: razor, knife, keys. I threw away the paper clips.
The world is never going to stop me from cutting. I can always buy more paper clips, knives, keys, razors. I mean I think I always will. Once I'm older and have my own job I can cut my arms again.
I remember once in History we were watching a movie. I was cutting my wrists under the table with a paper clip. No one even noticed which was amazing. But now that I think about it it also shows how much they don't care.
The dean of students said to my mom that as soon as someone has a problem like this they get sent out of school like a package. Which shows how much tye don't care.
I'm just afraid that one of these days I might end up drowning myself. I was once saved from drowning so I'll probably die in water. But that would amazingly difficult for me to do since I'm such a good swimmer. I'm just very frightened that I'll end up committing suidice.
I've always had to hide my feelings, always had to be sweet, cheerful, and perfect. Well, if I don't want to, what if I just want tto be normal? Depressed, suicidal, cutting, cynical. But still very sweet as I've always been all my life.
I've been very pressurized bby my grandmother, who is very nice but very conceited. My mom's tried explaining to her how much I hate being pressurized but she hadn't listened. Or changed. And she probably never will. I don't want to die. Or do I. Maybe if I do people will change. I don't know. I have so many mixed feelings. It's so complicated, being me.
My life has been absolute Hell. At least lately. I'm angel, bleeding, fallen, beautiful, so why do I have to go through Hell?
I hope that if anyone needs to talk you can e-mail me. Or find anyone to talk to.
Please, please take the time to e-mail me at: ayoung81787@yahoo.com
Thanks for listening, reading. No one ever really has.

-anne

Ok, it started a year ago...eight-ninth grade summer! I use to be a cheerful person who could work around anything. I dunno though, my pain gained up with me. I thought that if i jus didn't let it out, it wouldn't bother me. I was wrong! I kne my friend cut so i tried it, and i loved it! It made me feel alive & it reminded me that i was. My parents and siblings fight a lot. I'm never in the fights, but it hurts me alot. I remeber the first time i went in my room, i found a knife and jus cut like barely an inch, that's how it started. Now im cutting more and more. Im scared though because while i want people to kno. i don't want people to feel bad for me, i hide them very carefully, i don't want people to think im a freak jus because this is how i let out my angry and fears! The one thing i realised while i was readin everyone else's storiies, cutters aren't wat u expect, when u think of someone with a problem u expect to see this delinquent that no one ever talks to, most of the people were good students, had friends, and onli had angry that couldn't be realised any other way. Im in some ways a perfectionist, i love my cuts expecially when there jus right, i don't mind the scars, scars are jus a story, each of my scars tells a story of a day gone by, and how i felt!...jus like lil kid scars. I think i could stop if i wanted to, in some ways i think my problem might be comin to an end, people are started to kno, i don't want them to and the onli way people will be able to see my wrists is if i stop altogether.

12 years old and i have only been cutting for about a year. Im not sure y i started to cut and y i still do. My life is pretty much normal, i was never abused its just i get mad at everything. In the begining of this year i cut i rember my sister told me she did and thats were i got the idea of cutting. Well i cut on my wrist about 4 or 5 cuts, it felt good it always feels good. I think it was because me and my mom got in a fight, she really hurts me when she yells at me ,so ya i cant say am abused(verbally). She calls me horrible names it makes me sad and she makes me feel guilty like i ruined her life. Well once i cut for the first time i told only 1 of my closet friends. BIG MISTAKE!. She told another one of my friend and they told the conculer at my school. The concluer pulled me out of math class just outside the class and said that she just wanted to check up on me, i was confused at first then i realized y. I told her that my cat scratched me and she knew i was lieing she said that once i was done taking notes in math i had to go see her. I started crying in math class because i was so scared that she was gonna tell my mom and dad. My "friend" i told, was in my math class and was saying dont worry they wont tell ur mom ,trust me. Trust her? ya sure... well i went down to the concluing office, i was scared, she ask me what led up to that ect. Well after that i keep doing it but not offen like every few weeks. Well one time on IM my friend asked me if i stilled did it. I fliped im not sure y but i just couldnt stand her for telling and we always would get on fights on IM about it. Then i cut again, i showed my TRUE friend well then she told my first friend that i got in a fight with and wrote a letter to my mom and gave it about her and told her that i cut myself and that smoked and drinked. I was so mad and when i got home my mom had this talk with me. i just keep on doing it tho its not like anyone could stop me. Im not alone i noe alot of my friends that do it helps me 2 noe im not alone we all talk about y we do it. Im depressed now but i dont have a therapist , only one of my friends noe that i still do it. Im not sure y im depressed will today im gonna cut well i already tried to OD but it did work. I need help but i dont wanna get it. thanks for reading
and just rember ur not alone.

A year ago I was sexually assaulted by a friend of the family, I cared about him very much. It happened on march 29.2003. I kept it to myself for about a month and it was eating me up inside. After my Mom found out she filed a complaint against this person but I was still affected. I have PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder), and things just went wrong, I was always stress out, always in my room, always depressed. I would always think of suicide, and I have tried killing myself. I tried killing myself like 3 times, but I couldn't, I was going through a lot at the moment because my mother had a mental disorder, anxiety disorder. I was afraid that things for her can get even worse. That one reason why I didn't say anything to anybody. The only people who knew was my sister Nicole, and my Bestfriend Vickiana. They were both telling me to say something but I didn't wanted to. But in a way I was crying for help, writing in papers, "wish I were dead" and stuff like that, I was trying to get people to notice that there was something wrong with me. So I tried and tried until one day my teacher saw it asked me what was wrong but I didn't say anything until another teacher came then that when I said something. That when everything started. I overdose my self with pills, but I couldn't really seem to get results. So I kept trying but it still didn't work, so I gave up. I started going to therapy over the summer (I still do now). So yeah. The court sent my Mom and I a letter that we have to go to court. I got really nervous when I found out but I didn't saw him, not yet. I saw him on Jan 30.2004. Which was very shocking for me, to face the man who hurt me and destroy me. I was being strong at the moment I wasn't crying because I didn't want to seem weak, but when I needed to testify I expressed my self and say what I have to say. Later I was crying, a lot. But things still wasn't right for me, not yet. When I thought I was better, I wasn't. Like on May and two days ago I was cutting on myself I had an urge that I couldn't seem to control, but after that cut it was going to be my last because I don't want to seem weak. I want to move on but its hard. What makes it hard that I still miss this man, so that one reason why it makes it so hard to move on. Cutting for me became a habit, a bad habit. I got addicted to cutting . It scares me, but I'm being strong, keeping my head up high. When my mother found out I was cutting on myself she got worried, the first time when she found out. She didn't want to sent me to the hospital, besides that I didn't want to go. I told her I wasn't going to do it anymore but I couldn't stop. A week later she found out I was cutting myself again, she was about to sent me to the hospital but my sisters didn't let her call the E.R. The next day in school I was very distracted, depressed, I wanted to cut myself but I didn't. I went to my counselor and was talking to her and said what has been happening. She was about to sent me to the E.R. I refused, I didn't wanted to go. So instead they called mobile crisis, then my Mom came everything was messed up. They talked to me and to my mother. Then I went home depressed. I was boxing by the time I got home, cleaning my room, everything was okay, so that when I decided I needed to change for good. So I stop cutting myself for a while but then a month later I did it again, I was so mad at myself, because in order to change I have to stop cutting myself. I was meant to be strong not weak. This was not me. So here I am now trying to change for the best, for my family, for me. I am strong, stronger than ever and nothing is not going to stop me from changing. I am only 13 years old and this is what I have to go through, I'm still very young, and have much ahead of me, I'm just 13 years old.

I am 14 years old. I am a freshmen at high school. I have been overweight as long as I can remember. So is my mother and two brothers as well as other family members. I totally realize it isn't anyone's fault but mine, but I wish I could be skinny and pretty like my other friends. I am not a cutter but I have deeply thought about it many times. I even told some of my friends that I did cut and starved myself. I have done neither, yet. I am the type of person who can't handle things very well and can get really upset very easily. My family and some friends tell me I am beautiful and that my weight is not outrageous. I weigh in at about 175-180 and my range is around 108-150 as I can remember it last. I need to lose weight. People say that looks aren't everything but weigjt affects you life style. I don't want to do it for looks. I want to do it for me. I don't have any faith or inspiration for myself though and that is why i am emailing this hotline. My parents are kind of hard on me for certain things and that can certainly tear a teenager apart. Also I live a secret life that no one but my "best-friend" knows about. That tears me up also. I learned to be addicted to it though. That's a whole nother story though. But anyway, for those teens out there who are trying to recover from obesity, cutting, anorexia, bulimia, or so forth, please talk to me. I am obese and would be more than happy to talk about it. I thank you for reading this and hope that you can understand that life is hard, everyone knows that, but teenage life is incredibly pitiful. Especially if you don't love yourself. Anyway, I hope you can understand the point I was trying to give out. Thank you.

Hi my name is tiffany and i have a serious problem it started when i was in the 6 th grade i lost all my friends and they hated me ........well i got them bak in the 7th grade now i had more frinds i was very popular but everything changed i fell in love with this boy named danny even tho i am 13 years old no one will ever understand how much i just loved him and everyone tellin me i need to get over him well u know what i cant and never will i have tried i mean i lost him 4 ever..i started cutting in the middle of the year in 7 th grade and i have ever sence.. it is now i am in 8th grade and everything has gone wrong ..i have tried to kill myself 5 times i cut real bad now and no 1 understands everyone tells me that i need to stop i have dreams everynight and see myself dead on the news "tiffany a young lovedgirl committs suicide scars and poems and things on her computer to show how shefeels" people say that i should get help but i dont want to i am depressed more then ever bcuz my brother(26)who is very close to me and is the only one i care about in the world is not doing well at all and he said i am the only reason he is living......i cant stop cuttin i do it everwhere where ever i am at the time...i love all my frinds and i know they care but i just cant take this pain all this drama im tired of dealing with it i miss danny i really do i wish that if i could have one wish i wouls wish that i could have hm bak ...it sux when i see him he looks at me as if he doesnt know me and my best friend rachel is the only one that says keep trying if u love him and u dont want to loose him.....and i am worried about her she is a cutter to she has cut her face resenlty her dad abuses her.....i just wish i can get away i always think aboot running away always and i wish i can my mom treats me like shit and im so tired of it i have no freedom.....i am like a prisoner in my own house....one thing that has helped me threw this is drugs and cuttin is realy one thing that and to hellp me one night i overdosed on a pills called triple c'si took 12 and tha shit makes u feel nothing and i was in public at a dnce on a friday night i just resenlybroke up with my bf jake and he is so depressed now bcuz of me i have gone crazy buz of these things and then one time i went really craz i ripped up the bible and ripped everything off my walls ....i just have a very not needed life i always ask myself"what did i do wrong"why me?i just want to go just runaway kill myself i know that there is no hope at all and there nvr willl be !!!!!i lost the love of my life he is all i think about and i cut deeper and deeper i know he doesnt love me i know he hates me i know that he wil never be friends with me again but i just wish i hadnt of screwed that up bcuz of him there are scars and i mean literaly i have put danny in my leg a D in my hand....i just wish he can understand how i feel and i have explained but now it doesnt matter i know one of these days i am gunna say fuk it and do it annd there wiill be no more me i am tio that point my cuttin g is getting deeper and my depression is going higher i have tried to explain myself but no one will understand how i feel until the day i am gone......

tiffany

i cant even remember when i started cutting but i never cry i dont even think i know how anymore when i was little i would also burn myself and i have punched myself in the face i havent cut for a long time but recently a person very close to me has tols me about his cutting and all the arges to cut came back to me and i really wanted to cut again so i went home and cut myself and i havent ben able to stop my parents dont know and i hope they never find out cause i know it would hurt them a lot they buy the excuses i make up so hopefully they will never find out

me

i am 28 years old and have a secret cutting habbit.i have 2 small children and it has gotten worse. my loving husband of 11 years has been diagnosed with termiminal cancer. he has 6 to 8 months left, how can my babies and i say goodbye? he is my life and my rock, im so scared that i began self mutilation an bulimia again. if there is anyone out there who can help me please e[mail me at lisaford@comcast.net. all advice and encourage will be greatly appreciated.

its been a while since i fist started cutting. usually its when i feel the blackness overwhelming me, like thers no lights to punch through the emotions. i have rheumatoid artheritis and its very painful. im only seventeen so its hard to deal. though this isnt my reason. my dad left us when i was like 4 i dont really remember. he lives about 10 min. away, but never calls or stops by to see how im doing.ive been to therapy b/c of him but of course we all know that dosnt help.i keep my emotions inside as many of us do. i had broken up with a b/f n felt bad about it.so i started moaping and hiding in my room.around this time i realized i was miserable with family friends school everything. nothing seemed right for me. i tried a diffrent school, but ended up back with the same A-holes.i have friends jsut not ones i can relate to. they burden me with their problems, which started getting me frustrated. so then i began to cut. i found this was so easy. emotions were lost and all i could think about was the pain from the cuts....at least i nkew why i was hurting. it felt good. then after everything that went wrong i seemed to have a solution. my mom would get mad and she would start kicking me and scratching me. she still does it so often, but now i have a fallback.ive told my teachers once because i wanted help.....but to no prevail. but im not complaining. whatever heals the pain can be hidden in a scar.

If you want to put your story onto this website, please don't hesitate to email me. My email address is at the bottom of this page.

Email: si_struggle@hotmail.com