My name is Brianna and I would like to tell you my story. Hopefully it can help other people out. When I was seven years old I started getting molested every night. By the time I was eleven I couldn’t handle it anymore. I needed something to help me with the pain. I had heard about the older kids at my school ‘cutting’ to help themselves with the pain. At the time I didn’t know what that meant. So I found throwing up to help a lot. But when my best friend told my mom what I was doing in the bathroom every night after dinner she sent me to therapy. It helped but the late night visits to my room were still happening. I needed something that would help but wouldn’t be obvious. So by that time I had found out what ‘cutting’ meant. I like the idea of being in control of how much you bleed. So after one of the visits to my room I picked up a blade I had been using on a science project and pressed it on my ankle. I couldn’t even feel the pain so I pressed harder, then the blood came. It felt like such a relief.
Every night I pressed a little harder and got more blood. Evenutally my legs and arms were covered in scabs and scars. It wasn’t helping anymore. I decided I couldn’t do this anymore. I told my mom what was happening and she got me help. I have been clean of scabs for two years now. My scars still show, but I use them to tell my sister and friends that it isn’t worth it.
My name is Brianna. I started cutting when I was ten years old. The cuts started out as superficial scratches, but like most other cutters, I got addicted. I hid my addiction from the world for years, but about this time last year I just didn’t care anymore. The cuts got a lot worse and a lot deeper. I didn’t even care if anyone found out. Finally, my mom did find out and I was hospitalised. I was hospitalised five times. When I wasn’t in inpatient therapy, I was in outpatient or partial. I’ve attempted suicide twice. The first time I wasn’t so serious, I just cut my wrist a little deeper than I meant to. The second time I took a bottle of pills and almost died. It took actually coming that close to death for me to wake up. I am now sixteen and have been cut free for six months. That may not seem very long, but for me it is a victory. I am still very fragile and have a long road ahead of me. Sometimes the urges and temptations are almost more than I can bear, but so far I’m doing okay. I just hope that it doesn’t take you knocking on death’s door to open your eyes.