I want out of this pain I feel I feel crazy for it but when me and my husband argue I feel the hate for myself. I will cut, headbang and punch and slap myself, pull my hair. I was better for a couple of years but recently I began to do it again since my husband gets so angry that he ignores me, makes me feel like I am worthless to him. He will say he wants to leave me and he doesn’t love anymore. And it hurts, god it hurts me, makes me feel like I use to, so unwanted, unloved. Then I think about my son in his bed sleeping and I feel like I failed and that he has fucked up parents. It’s never in front of him though but I feel like he knows somehow and I hate myself for it. Damn it, he deserve the prefect happy life and I try so hard when he is around to make everything positive but when he is asleep or I am around my husband I feel like shit. I used to hurt myself when I had an eating disorder and also my mom started shit or I felt fat and ugly. Am fucking crazy aren’t I? What the fuck is wrong with me? Why can’t god and other people love me? What did I do so wrong? I heard of people just cutting or just head banging, but I do cut, I head bang, I punch, slap, pull hair. Cutting is rare. I usually just do my quickiest reaction to my build of pain and stress. So why do I have multiple self abuse? My god, I have a kid, why do I let things hurt me that people say? So recently my mom was bitching at me for not doing more about my sixteen month old son in his biting and pinching stage she said I need to hurt him back but I just ignore him and give him no attention from it and it works so when he does bite her he thinks it’s funny because half the time she laughs or squeals so he doesn’t understand pain he just baby and the doc said I am doing right and he has seen every child his age go through this phase but I get negative shit from how Alex is mean and am not doing right but not spanking him well I will never hurt Alex I don’t want him to be negative to himself like I am. I want him to feel loved. Now my husband gets mad at me because I am not some sex crazy woman. He doesn’t understand why it always has to be romantic, so he blows up just a minute ago and tells me he is leaving me and he doesn’t love me and to shut up it’s over I don’t want you no more etc. So I am crying he tells me boohoo shut up and I can’t take it. I punch my self so hard in the head I pulled hair out and I slapped myself. Why can’t he talk to me and listen without saying those mean things to hurt me? Then he says it is act that I don’t care about him and now he says he loves me but he doesn’t want sex ever again from me. Why does he hate me? Anyone help me please tell me more about if there is anyone multiple self abuse, meaning I inflict pain with more than one method.
I’m fourteen and I’ve been cutting for a year. I cut across my wrists sometimes but mostly on my belly because it’s harder to see. I started because I got tired of feeling so hated. At school people would treat me like crap and I hated crying. One day my friend who used to cut showed me a scar. That day when I went home I grabbed a kitchen knife. At first it didn’t hurt that bad or bleed deeply. Then I started useing razors. I pulled apart shavers to get razors and they are under my keyboard. Sometimes I want to get caught. To see what my mother would say. A few friends know, but I don’t cut on my wrists because it’s to visable.
I am twelve years old. I don’t think I have a reason to cut but I still do. It’s like the only pain I can control. I started cutting when I was about nine or ten but then I stopped. I started this year when I was eleven. I remember during basketball I would just stand there while the coach wasn’t looking and just dig my nails into my skin. It was like I had to be the best player just for my dad. About like every time after practice I’d cut my arms. I stopped for a while because the coach asked about the cuts. I stopped till the season was over. I just recently started to cut again. I am not sure why. My friend says I do just to look cool but I don’t know. I think he is kinda right. I don’t really care if I look cool or any crap like that. I am that loser freak punky chick I guess for the label. I still don’t know why I cut but right now I have about sixty cuts on my arm. Or something like that. I only have one friend that cuts. She cuts her legs because of her mom. She burns her skin too but not much. But she is like my best friend this year (you know how you change friends like every year) my other two best friends don’t cut but it’s all cool. Well, anyway I totally don’t know what to do. I need to stop cutting because I don’t want people to ask or anything. I keep my sweater on all day. Now that softball is starting I am gonna have to stop. Music is totally helping me with both stopping nad starting but I think the thing that will stop my cutting is sports. But yeah, that’s my story.
She is a her own person
She is beatuiful
She can’t see that
She can’t imangen that
She doesn’t believe it
She wont believe it
She has a way to exscape this
She slits her wrist
She has a secret life
She see’s scars no one does
She is her own person no one knows
I’m being called names at school like stinky, smelly, b.o and all that kind of stuff, but I don’t know why. I had a shower every morning but that soon changed. They keept saying it, loads of the kids in school. Then I kept getting my mum to buy me 5 cans of deoderant, as much as I could. My school bag was full of cans and my mum stopped buying me loads of them. But by this time I think I was paranoid. I had 3 baths every day. I had to stay up really late to do my home work. Then I liked a boy who hated me and people were saying he says I smell too. I was being punched, kicked, pushed, tripped up. When my mum found out about all the baths I was having she told me to just have one because you don’t smell. Some of my mates had enough because I was spraying myself all the time even in class and always at break and lunch.
I couldn’t cope with all the names I was being called by different people I hardly knew. And just to make it all better my mum and dad started shouting at each other. I hate it when my dad shouts. I couldn’t take much more of the shouts so I got my spikey belly bar and started moving it up and down my skin until it bleed. I soon stopped for 2 years, then started again with needles and stopped for another year. Then the names was still being called and shouted at me so I used a blade from a sharpener and I only did it at home when no one was in. I soon moved on to kitcen knifes, scissors, razors. I wasn’t doing P.E. until my excuses ran out. I still had loads of cuts up my arm. One of my mates said you didn’t fall in a bush you cut yourself, I’m not stupid. I denied it all and said why would I do that. She just looked and ran on. I tried to cover my arm but we had to wear t-shirts and it was hockey. I was trying to hide them from my mate and the teacher saw them going all the way up my left arm. She asked what did you do to your arm, all shocked. I said I fell in a prickel bush. She just said OK try your best then. Then one of the popular girls said what the hell did you do to your arm. I told her the same. I hate P.E. That day my arm was all straight healing wounds in lines going across all the way up my arm.
At school the next day we had drama and a girl walked near me. So I turned my arm over so the cut wouldn’t show. She asks do you cut yourself. I told her I fell into a bush and then another girl asked how it happend. I had to lie. I felt horrible lying but they all believed me. That’s what made me feel so bad. They said ow that must have hurt.
The next day I went in to the lesson I hate and the same girl who said it must have hurt was in the class. She didn’t want to sit in front of me. She said how it smelt and all this. Her friends joined in and then she goes to the teacher. You know why I don’t want to sit there? She just smiled and moved the desk back. I couldn’t take it. I got my purse and got the blade out. I was hiding and looking so no one saw. Then that same girl in my drama group said show me your arm. I put the blade back and I showed her so she couldn’t see it bleeding. Then her mate goes how did she do that. The girl told her what I told her in drama. I was so scared she would have seen it bleeding. I started to shake without realizing the girls were going Miss, Miss, she is shaking. The teacher asked. I’m OK I said. Yes but I thought just when the girl asks me to show her my arm I think I heard her say I think I saw her doing something to her wrists. The only person who knows is a really good friend of mine who admitted she did it and showed me. That’s when I told her I do as well.
At 19 years of age, I have been a cutter for 8 years, and I cut up to 8 times a day, until two months ago when I decided to reclaim my life from the hell I had know for so long. I was diagnosed as having borderline personality disorder, and the therapist I was seeing told me I was untreatable, as did the four previously when my cutting increased as opposed to decreased. So I decided to find out as much as possible about my illness and work to get better, or at least aware of triggers and moods. It’s going very well, and although I still get the urge, I refuse to give in. I know how much progress I have made and I will not go back to the misery I knew before I began this recovery. So; I guess I want to say please have faith in your own abilities to get well and stay safe. You can do it, and please feel free to email me if you need any support or have any questions. I wish you all the very best of luck and I am here for you all. Take care.