Well, I have read most of the stories on this site, and I decided that maybe it was time I added my own.
I just turned 18, and have been cutting for roughly 6 months. I started because… Well, I’m not really sure. I guess it’s because I kinda lost control over my life. I lived with my aunt, who treated me like her 12 year old son. I made practically no desicions on my own. I have a friend at school, and I found out that she cuts, so one night after arguing with my aunt, I tried it. It was such a relief. I had no idea. I was shaking, and my heart was racing. I knew that it was wrong and sick, but I kept going. None of the cuts were very deep — not that time, anyway. Over the next few weeks, when I got upset or felt like things were out of my control, I would cut my arms. Suddenly I had control over something in my life, and no one could take it away from me.
One night, while getting ready for bed in my pj’s (a spaghetti strap shirt and pants), my aunt came into the bathroom while I was brushing my teeth and putting my hair up. She noticed the obvious scars and scratches on my arms. She asked what they were, and I tried to shake them off as nothing, but she wouldn’t let it go. She asked kind of jokingly if I did them to myself, and I told her no. She dropped it after that.
Not too long later, she and I got into a very big fight about my life (we always fought about it — religion, my choices, etc.) I cried for 2 straight hours. I wanted to cut so bad just to get away from where I was. My aunt knew something was wrong, and she got it out of me. I was supposed to start seeing a Therapist, but I only went once. My aunt kept forgetting to get the number to schedule another appointment.
Since then, I have moved back in with my mom, and I cut just about every day. I went for six days this past week, but then I feel, and I cut again. It’s a vicious cycle — I just hope I can make it through.