Psyke.org

Alyssa

Untitled

Copyright, Alyssa

I’m fourteen. I have been cutting my arms for three years now. I haven’t cut for three weeks. I can’t promise I will never again. I’m so happy that there is this site. I’m sick of people just telling me ‘just stop’ and shit like that. I’m glad on here you understand that it is an addiction, that in a way it does help. I love my tears of blood. I have many scars. Gone to the hospital two times for hitting a vein. But oh well, life goes on.

My Escape

Copyright, Alyssa

The first time I hurt myself was last Christmas. I was thirteen and I felt so alone. I began digging my fingernails into my forearm, without even thinking I did it over and over again. After, I remember feeling a total relaxation like I’ve never felt before. I wanted more. I did it all the time but eventually my best friend Anna found out and helped me stop. A shitload of stuff went down between February and April. The only way to release my anger and frustration was to cut myself. When I cut, I was focusing on the pain in my arm, not the pain in my heart. With every drop of blood that fell, I would feel that much better. This went on for about a month. My mom found out and brought me to Butler, which is a mental institution. From that day on I went to several hospitals, and saw many doctors. I’m still in therapy today and it helps me a ton. I stopped cutting but every once in a while I’ll have one of those days. Each scar on my body represents a battle I’ve gone through in my life, and I’m proud because all those battles, I’ve won. So I guess you could say my scars are trophies. Just a little uglier.

Untitled

Copyright, Alyssa

I am a cutter. Started in early 7th grade, I had just turned twelve in August, which at this moment in time is around two years ago. I am now fourteen and in 9th grade. I’m not even exactly sure why it really got started. There was a lot going on. My cousin was being placed into rehab for drug abuse and other problems, my parents and I weren’t getting along, nor was the rest of the family, school became hard, I was changing, everyone around me was changing. Things just got rough. I had heard of cutting from one of my friends, and how great it was. I had never gone through with it, until one day when I was in the shower. I picked up a full razor head, and cut on my ankle, without taking off the guard wires or anything. And though it hurt, I felt relieved. I felt as if I finally had at least some control over something in my life. I needed to feel that control. I continued with this cutting, and when I eventually spoke to my friends about it, I learnt new ways of cutting, and tried those also. I won’t say I’m a ‘bad’ cutter, because I have seen pictures and stories on here worse then mine. I guess I am just your typical teenager with a problem. But I also feel that no two cutters should be compared. Even though, I must admit, I have and still do sometimes compare, I do try not to. Everyone cuts or SIs for their own reasons. What may be a stupid reason to one, may be a huge reason to another. And that’s what I am sticking by. For myself, I have not yet received help for any of my cutting or depression problems. I have very low self esteem, and I must admit, I can have a bit of a mood problem. My mom has found out that I cut, but I convinced her that I stopped, and actually was considering recently, to go away and seek help. All in all, cutting is still a part of my life. It’s not that I regret it, but I am not proud of it. I morely regret it then anything, but I am not ashamed. I keep my head high, and I try my best to stay positive for everyone else. my reason for posting this is to tell other that there are other ways to deal with your problems than taking everything out on yourself. If you have only cut a few times, stop while you’re ahead. I look at my scars, and my cuts, and I hate myself for them. I don’t even scar all that well, but I know they’re there. I get no satisfaction whatsoever by looking at them. It’s not worth the five minutes you feel better. It makes your life amazingly different, and ruins everything. My advice is to not do it at all, or stop while you’re ahead. And if you are a cutter, like myself, and can’t stop, at least try on your own, or take in to consideration the thought of help. I know it’s hard, I’m there. It’s hard to admit you have a problem. It’s hard to accept the fact that you can’t do this on your own. I know I haven’t yet. But help is better late then never. I’m proud of anyone who can at least say that they are a cutter, or that they have a problem. That’s the first step, admitting. I give love and support to all of you out there who have a problem. We are in this together.

I want to tell a story, that may give others on here reassurance, or, make others stop discriminating.

In 7th grade, I went through a lot of changes. I started to change my appearance; I wore heavy makeup, black clothes, etc. I changed religions, I went wiccan, and I started to hang out with new people. This did not make me a better nor worse person. I was still Alyssa, I just had another religion, different clothing, and some new friends. But others didn’t see it like that. I was harassed, ridiculed, and threatened. This is one of the major reasons I started cutting.

I still get this today. From being a person with dyed hair, black clothes, makeup, and being a witch, people make comments all day long. You never get used to it. I have gone through this longer than I’ve cut, and I’m still not used to it. What people say affects others. Please, if you’re a person who talks about others, stop. Think about how they feel. If everyone got along, the world would be such a better place. So the next time you see people making fun of others, please, stick up for them, or for yourself. It makes a difference.

Thank you for reading my story, and I hope I have at least touched or helped one person.

I am always available to talk. Please e-mail me.

 

Permanent location: http://www.psyke.org/personal/a/alyssa