About Cutting

At the moment I am writing this having been inspired by a question in Kiri’s advice section. The thing is that I was a cutter for a long time and I think that it may be helpful to others to talk about my own experiences and also to offer a chance for anyone who needs it to contact me. It can be especially hard if you do not know anyone with the same problem and have no one who understands what you are going through. Anyone having this trouble can feel free to contact me at my e-mail account chorus_nerdbomber13@hotmail.com or my aim account slpyjene or msn bottomm .

I started cutting at the start of my freshman year of high school, which places me at about 13 years old at the time. I am not sure of the exact date, but somewhere in there. I had moved four or so different times in the last few years before that and it had been very traumatizing for me. One night as I was sitting in my room I got out a knife and cut myself. The reason I kept going after that is that I felt so much better when the pain was on my physical body and not in my head. I knew that this was something real and I could understand it. It also was a grounding point for me because otherwise I got sucked so far inside my own mind I would lose hours off the day.

Granted it was frightening at first. You don’t understand why it is you are doing these strange things. You feel sick, like you are the only one, a perversion of nature. You get used to it after a while and it becomes a practice.

Some people are not fond of the comparison, but in my experience it is very much like a drug. At first you are a little scared and confused, but there is this rush. You start of with only a little, but as you go along you need more and more for the same effect. Pretty soon instead of scratches that go away in a few days your arms and legs are covered with deep cuts that take months to heal and will leave you with scars the rest of your life. Sooner or later everyone discovers that the magic key is seeing blood. The more of it, the better.

I started having to wear long sleeves and pants all the time. Even in the summer I had to keep covered so no one would see. It’s a pretty miserable existence. The whole thing just makes you go further and further back into your own world. You get distant from your friends and your family because if you do not they will find you out at some point. My family didn’t find out until I went to the guidance councilor at school because it had become so bad. I was put into therapy for a while and slowly I stopped cutting. More of the motivation came from not wanting anyone to see and shame than anything though, and when I ended out moving in with my mother the next year and was no longer being watched I started up again. This time I went to a teacher I was very close to and he took me to see the school nurse. I got help again and was put back into therapy and on meds.

I have to say that the meds weren’t that great. I was put on Zoloft which did keep me from getting really down and depressed, but it also prevented me from getting really high and happy. I was at this middle ground all the time which is as bad as not being happy really. Not feeling anything much at all kind of ruins life.

I took myself off the medication and stopped going to therapy. This was not exactly the wisest choice, but it was worth it to me to feel bad as opposed to not feeling at all. Instead of cutting I ended up overdosing on aspirin instead and that was not much fun either. The thing about the overdose was that I got scared enough that my will to live returned and I finally actually got through the worst of my problems. While I will always have a bit of depression to deal with, I find that now I have a better perspective with it and I try to help others because I have been there and know how it feels.

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