Flying Fox

Why I Crucify Myself

Copyright, Flying Fox

why do we crucify ourselves
every day I crucify myself
nothing I do is good enough for you
Tori Amos

I am fourteen and have been cutting since I was twelve. I have only voluntarily told two people about my cutting, but they don’t know the full story, I want to tell them, but I don’t know how do go about it.

I was felt up a few times by a so-called ‘respected’ person in my life. This has happened continuously since I was around twelve, too. But, I think the person realised it was wrong, because he only does it occasionally now. Still, it messed me up badly, because now if anyone so much as hugs me uninvitedly or unexpectedly, they usually trigger a flashback.

The flashback thing wasn’t helped by the fact that some males who I decide to be in the presence of for more than a week, feel the need to feel my breasts. Not only is this degrading, but it brings on some of the worst flashbacks. And now, recently, some females have decided that it’s OK to feel me up, too. I am starting to think that I have a sign on my back that says ‘sexually abuse me, I enjoy the pain’.

Between the ages of five and seven, my parents’ marrige was failing. You see, both of them had affairs. I remember so many arguments so very vividly. I could recite a few of them word for word. Well, these also cause me to cut, because I have so many flashbacks of them. I have no respect for either of my parents.

I mentioned that both my parents had affairs. This was devastating to me. The people who I was supposed to trust most, had just violated each others’ trust in the worst way. This sent me on a downward spiral. I remember my tenth birthday wish was that I would get hit by a car, and die. Needless to say, that was another wish ignored. I hate both of my parents.

I can’t bear living in my house. It is so painful. I have never lived anywhere else, you see, so I have many negative emotions attached to this house. Every room I can tell you something negative about.

Then, I discovered the wonderful world of cutting. Dragging the razor over my skin makes me forget all the troubles of the past.

I remember my first cut. My parents had just had (yet another) fight, and I was extremely depressed because of it. I found one of those crappy, disposable razors that you use to shave. I smashed it open, and took the blade from inside. I pulled up my sleeve, and slashed away at my wrist. I remember the intense whirlpool of emotion before I cut, the blank calm during the cut, and the instant relief that follows. But, mostly, I remember the need to cut again, as I am experiencing that right now.

A year ten at my school noticed the slash marks on my wrist. She is a cutter, too. She went and told the counsellor. I was forced to see the moronic school counsellor. I didn’t tell her anything. I have no reason to trust her. Anyway, I talked my way out of that problem. And, miraculously, the counsellor didn’t tell my parents. That was probably because I reminded her that it was illegal for her to disclose confidential information (when in fact, she is allowed to tell anyone she wants, because I ‘am a danger to myself’).

Just a few weeks ago, I promised my best friend, and my boyfriend, that I would try not to cut. Then, just yesterday, I carved the words ‘escape’ and ‘sorry’ into my thighs. After merely a week of not cutting, I was so hysterical with emotion, I cut. I know I need to stop. Cutting is a selfish thing to do, just like suicide. It effects everyone, even if you think it doesn’t.

Then, there is the fact that I am likely to have a mild eating disorder. I have the mindset of an anorexic, but not the physique. Throw me a parade.

So, that is what brings me here. I now have a boyfriend (mentioned earlier) who is the most supportive, tolerating, and most understanding guy to ever walk this earth, and my best friend, who I owe everything to. I don’t know how they put up with me, and I don’t know why they stick around.

If you have any coping techniques or alternatives to cutting or you just want to talk, e-mail me on

Update, 3 September 2004

Copyright, Flying Fox

I am very proud of myself; I haven’t cut in a week. This is very good for me. I had a relapse of cutting a bit longer then a week ago, but now it’s all good. I cut my shoulder last time, but only around four times. The words I sliced into my leg are healing nicely, but they were deepish, so they might scar. But, ah well. Life goes on.


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