Some people are addicted to drugs, some to cigarettes, some to alcohol. I’m addicted to cutting. When people are addicted they will go to whatever lengths to do it, even if it means hurting the people you care most about, even if you endanger yourself. My name is Teva, I started cutting in fifth grade and am still struggling with my addiction today. I’m not sure why I started cutting but I do remember that I felt like it was the best feeling in the world. I felt power, in control of my own pain, not helpless, free of everything and I wasn’t going to let anyone take that away from me. I am fourteen right now and in those fourteen years I have been through more than most people ever do. I have seen my best friend get shot. All my family in some way has made us all suffer from their addictions. I have prosthetic knee caps because I was jumped on the fault of rumours. I have been raped twice and molested for five years. When you are sexually abused, it takes away all of your self esteem and you feel used and exposed. From all this torture I have developed some disorders like PTSD and depression. So now that you have got the idea of why I like the feeling of me cutting myself. Let me tell you how an addiction like mine can turn into an obsession.
My parents first found out about my self harm, I was in 6th grade. They took me to a counsellor but I refused to talk to her because I had trouble trusting people and didn’t want to hear I understand from someone who has no idea what I’ve been through or why I cut. I eventually began to tell lies as to why I cut just so I can get out of the useless therapy and continue with my addiction. I stopped cutting in visible places and started cutting anywhere else. I succeeded.
After that they took away every sharp object I had. Knifes, razors, bobby pins, even tweezers. But I still found stuff. I did it with anything that could cut. Anything! I was pretty good about hiding my cuts, so I never got caught.
When my best friend did get shot, a week later I tried to commit suicide by cutting deeply on my wrists, my little sister found me and I was rushed to the hospital. When my family seemed to be falling apart every way and I got raped for my second time I cut everywhere with each cut getting deeper and deeper. I wasn’t trying to commit suicide but it almost happened until my neighbours found me and again I was rushed to the hospital.
After my second suicide attempt I was put on suicide watch. I favour cutting my arms so when they saw that I was cutting again (soon after the attempt) I was put into a mental hospital for two months.
With PTSD you get flashbacks of old memories and blackouts after them (if I don’t take my medication). The memory of my best friend came back to me during class and I broke out and began to go crazy. I threw my desk at the teacher, then ran out into the hallway when my friend tried to hold me back I hit her in the face went into the hallway and broke the glass. I was kicked out of school for my disease. After the lecturing the memory wouldn’t leave my head so I tried again to commit suicide with broken glass and about 1800mg of Aspirin.
After this I got put in rehab by hospital order, I was in there for about three months. After all of this I still cut. It has always been a daily habit, and I am slowly trying to break it. I’m battling with my trust issues and my addiction by going to a counsellor weekly. That was the times it got bad but not all of them. This is letting you know how bad cutting can get and how the addiction even though you think it helps only makes things worse.