Copyright, Frances

My name is Frances. I’m now eighteen, but started cutting myself when I was fifteen. My mom had died six months earlier of leukemia and I couldn’t cope anymore. I’m the eldest of three children so I was playing mommy as well to my little sister while trying to deal with all my own hurt at the same time. It all just got too much for me and one day — I don’t even remember when — I started cutting myself. After spending time in both a normal hospital and a psychiatric hospital I managed to stop. I still sometimes cut when I’m stressed, but try really hard not to. I am still realising though just how self-destructive I am and how much harm I cause my body. I’m a fanatic about what I eat and have shocking eating habits. To me it’s just another way for me to have some control in a world where everything is out of my control. No one can make me eat, it’s like no one could make me stop cutting. I also bruise myself. Because of my eating though it’s easy because I have become really anemic. All I really need to do is bump into something or hit myself with something and I bruise. It’s an addiction that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to kick completely. For the most part I have managed to get rid of my most self-destructive behaviour and am no longer cutting myself. I have come to accept the fact though that self-harm will always be a part of my life and that there is no way that I can just forget about it. It’s happened and I can’t change that.


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