Copyright, Kathryn

My name is Kathryn, and I am 13 years old. I started the long road through depression about 8 months ago when I was just starting school this year. I remember that I hated being in a new school with new faces, new teachers, and a new life. I hated my school so much that I would sit in class on the verge of tears with memories from my older school, because here, I had no friends. No one to be with. No one to talk to. I would sit and class and just play with the compass, ruler, and calculator I kept in my notebook for math class, until one time, I accidentally poked myself with the sharp end of the compass. That was the beginning of my problems.

This escalated into a psychological hell-hole where I couldn’t cope without the compass. I needed it to live. And it helped. My grades went up because I had something that I could control. I could cope now, but then even bigger problems came for me. I was not really aware about how badly I was scarring my body and a teacher noticed them and sent me to the guidance office. She (the school psychologist) talked to me for a while, and then I was sent to my psychiatrist (who I was already seeing for Major Depression). My mom didn’t know what to think. She seemed almost angry at me. So I cut again that night. It was just so hard to cope, and I felt like I needed this to get through even one day of my miserable life.

After the compass, I started to use scissors and a pocket knife, because what I wanted wasn’t pain, but blood. That was my main reason. I liked to see the blood trickling down my arms and legs after injuring myself. But that only worked for so long. I needed something else. I took the blade out of a pencil sharpener and it is about as sharp as a razor, so I used that. At first, I was really hesitant, but as I learnt to use such a sharp blade, I cut deeper and more frequently. This turned into a even larger problem, because now I was covered with scars. This worried a lot of people at my school, especially my teachers and guidance people. The students just laughed at me, and told me that I was only doing it for attention, but that wasn’t true. I was using it to get through my own problems. Not create more.

Living with these scars is about the worst thing I could ever imagine, and sometimes, I even consider suicide because of them. They drive me so insane, that it is very hard to cope and I just give up… but if I look at this from a psychiatrist’s point of view: A 13 year old who has an OK life, who injures herself, and then wants to commit suicide because of her injuries.

Now this sounds stupid.

I just don’t know when I will be able to stop, but I know it is very soon. I am on medication for depression and receive weekly visits to my doctor who also does cognitive psychotherapy. I think that someday soon I will be able to pull myself out of this phase of this life, and I know that if you are someone reading this who has been through a similar situation, you will too.

If you are ever in need, you can always email me, and I will do my best to help you!


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