Personal Story

Copyright Jenni

When I was younger, before I knew anything about self injury, maybe three or four at the most I would sit in my doorway and hit my head against it or scratch at myself. I have my reasons, as do most everyone else who have hurt themselves on purpose. Whether it be ripping your hair out in frustration or cutting yourself to feel, most everyone hurts themselves when they can not handle a situation. Whether they realise it or not.

Now my reasons for hurting myself I didn’t understand at the time. In all actuality I didn’t understand them until I was probably ten after my mom finally left my dad and I went ‘oh shit, most dads don’t beat their little girls bloody and hit more when they cry’. Though I didn’t say this of course, it was how I felt. My entire life that is what I thought was normal, that and strange smelling pipes and lots of yelling.

Though I can not remember most of went on in our little blue house and then later at our lake house (which we couldn’t afford) I remember being hungry, I remember hurting, and I remember pain was normal. I can’t seem to separate my anger and pain. I started cutting in eighth grade. Though my friends didn’t find out until the end of ninth when my boyfriend and now best friend decided to dump me and I was careless and cut low on my arm. I have since quit for a year now, being at the very end of my junior year. Before, during, and till this very day I do ‘lesser’ forms of SI such as hitting myself, digging my nails into my skin and plucking. I also relish the feel of almost-burning hot metal on my skin.

Much more has happened in my life besides my father, who when I was ten shot himself through the mouth, though only after finding out my mother was going to marry my now step dad and was already pregnant with my step dad’s child, my little sister. But wait, there is more, after my grandmother died of breast cancer when I was six my mother’s sister married my dad’s father. This effectively made my family tree a wreath and screwed up my elder sister and I who at the time had yet to get over our grief from only two months prior.

My life hasn’t really stopped being crappy as my mother has always been a bitch who liked her alcohol a little too much. And now since my thirty-some odd year old step brother is in jail, my niece has come to live with us and she is another neglect case such as my older sister and I. As my dad would leave for hours at a time when I was little and my older sister had to take care of me because mom was working and he was at strip clubs getting names and numbers of whores.

I don’t know why I am writing this for complete strangers to read but maybe I am just looking for some understanding and not pity as a lot of ass holes think. I hate pity, but I just want someone to understand or tell me I’m not alone in all this, or perhaps I will become the one who gives the understanding and takes away some of the loneliness of someone reading this.


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