I’m sixteen and have been cutting for a year now. I do not only do my arms but also my stomach, with a razor. My cutting has got worse in the last month or so, I think this is to do with me splitting up from my boyfriend. Someone I trusted and loved yet he did not feel the same. I feel so lost and on my own so I cut, it makes the pain disappear and helps me to forget. When I see my scars I become upset again and cut. I’m living in a big circle. I just want you to know that people’s stories have helped me to understand my problem and hopefully I can try and overcome it.
I have been self-injuring since I was twelve and I’m fifteen now. I don’t have any pictures on this site because I didn’t take any. I have stopped self-mutilating for a few months because my therapist was threatening to send me to a mental institution so I stopped. Then I got back into it again. Most of it is because I have depression but that’s not something to blame my decisions on. I do it a lot because I don’t know how to express myself in any other way. And the pain distracts me from what happened. I do self-mutilate now. I know I shouldn’t but it distracts me. I tried snapping a rubber band on my wrist for when I got mad or sad when I had stopped. But I snapped it so much that it broke the skin and so I just said “screw it!”, “back to the razor”. I posted a poem on here, it’s called “Skin Deep”.
If anyone wants or needs someone to talk to you can IM me on AIM, my SN is MyEyesSewnShut7. Anyone can talk to me.
Little Girl Lost
There are a thousand and one reasons why people self injure. I am by no means the norm for cutters. I’m 18, female, no eating diorders, no abuse. Just one very sad girl with a history of depression and loneliness that has messed up my life.
I started (I think) when I was 13. I was obviously depressed before that because I attempted suicide months before my 14th. Since then I’ve thought about it but never had the guts to try it again.
I cut using glass. On my arms, legs, stomach, ankles, feet, hands.
I attack my arms with a baseball bat until they’re black.
I wish to God everyday that I’ll just die because I don’t have the guts to do it myself.
I was old compared to some people when I started. But think about it. A thirteen year old girl in so much pain that she feels she has to do this.
I’m 18 now. Living with my mom, my Dad not far away. They don’t know yet. Five years of living with this. And they don’t know.
It physically hurts when I think about what I do. My chest tightens and I can’t breathe. I find it so hard just to believe this is a problem. I still berate myself for trying to get attention; being melodramatic. But this is a problem. I have a problem. I don’t want to stop. I have no intention of doing so. Right now I just want the confusion to lift so I can feel again. The only time I ever feel is when I cut. Any other time and I’m emotionally numb.
I’d like to talk to other cutters. Mail me and tell me things. I guess all I really need is someone to tell me I’m okay. That they’re there for me, the way that my parents never will be. Advice on telling parents would be good too.
Don’t follow my lead. This is a bad thing to get involved in because it’s an addiction. Once you start it’s almost impossible to stop.