How it all Started

Copyright, Maggie

First off let me introduce myself to all of you. My name is Maggie and I am fourteen years old. I want all of you to understand how painful it is for me to tell you all of this being that I’ve kept many of these things a secret for many years. Both my parents abused drugs and alcohol while I was a kid. Hell for all I know my father probably still does. I currently live with my mother whom I care for very much. She has been clean and sober for six years now going on seven. Her family disowned her because of her drug problems. For years my outlet was going with my family on the weekends and then they stopped coming to get me. At the time I didn’t know why, it was only recently I found out about the whole disowning my mother thing. My parents, like a lot of other people’s parents fought a lot. Often times one of them, generally my mother, would storm out and disappear for a few days. When my mother would go to where ever she did I would be left alone with my drunken father. Many nights he would either release his frustrations on me either physically or sexually which ever best suited him. I was too afraid to tell my mother when she would come back. I didn’t want to say or do anything to upset her. I desperately wanted her to stay or at least take me with her when she left. But she never did nor did she stay for more than two weeks at a time. It was a continuous cycle of fear and abuse that lasted until I was nine. My father went to prison for fraud and possesion of a controlled substance. My aunt knew that if my mother didn’t get out of the situation that she was currently in that either she or me would die. We then moved to a town a few hours away where my mom could clean up. It was there that I first took a blade to my skin. One night after group therapy I felt this incredible weight upon my shoulders. I felt drained and as if my life was not in my control. As if I were in the passengers seat to the ride of my life. I went into the bathroom and sat in the tub. There was a razor resting on the soap dish. It was a cheap pink plastic razor with white daiseys on the handle. I picked it up and at first I tried to cut without taking the blade out of the razor. It didn’t work. I stood up and decided that I would never try anything like that again. Then I got the idea to crack the razor with the toilet seat. when I finally got the blade out I sat on the side of the tub and pulled up my sleeve. I pressed the sharp edge against my wrist and dragged back to where the slit was at an angle. The fist cut want about a quarter of an inch deep and bled like a bitch. At first it hurt. Then a different sensation swept over me. One of relief, I felt as if I had been dragged high up into the clouds and then slammed back down to the floor. My heart was pounding and I was out of breath. It felt good to have that feeling, one that you could control and trigger, one that made everything a little bit more tolerable. That first cut left a hideous purple scar that now is slightly faded. I did this in around May and all summer I had to wear long sleeves to wait until the purple bump went down. From then on every day without fail I would cut just not my arm. I decided it was too noticeable, I knew that if somebody found out they would try to stop me and try to take my only way of coping away. I couldn’t let that happen. I started to cut on my upper right thigh, I have about 75+ scars on my thigh. Now when I go to the mall and see a really cute skirt I feel bad because I know that I can never wear anything above my knees again without someone asking questions. I wish I had a webcam to show all of you reading this how my so called savior now haunts me every day when I change clothes or take a shower. I stopped cutting about seven months ago and at first I thought I was going to die without it. Towards the end it got really out of control. I would leave class every day during my science class to go to the bathroom and cut. I would use the bathroom that I thought nobody used. One day I was really stressed out and had had a horrible week and I went a little too deep. Blood was everywhere, it wouldn’t stop bleeding. Desperate to stop the blood I took toilet paper and wrapped it around my leg until I knew I had to get back to class. Blood was all over the toilet seat and on the floor. I half ran half walked to class for fear the a teacher would go to the bathroom and see me leaving it. Later that day I heard teachers saying how a girl had started her period in the c hall bathroon and left blood all over the floor and toilet seat. I started to stop when me and my boyfriend (we’ve been together for a year now and I don’t know what I would do without him), he’s also an ex-cutter, decided to stop togehter. He told me how much it hurt him to see the cuts on my body and I couldn’t bear the thought of causing him pain. I don’t know if I’ll ever go back to cutting, I probably will but it scares me when I know that what to many people and myself at one point and time is their only way of staying alive can actually kill them. When I was cutting I didn’t realize how unstable and unhappy I really was, only until recently I realized that cutting took away a good six years of my life. I lived in fear of people finding out my secret, I avoided swimming at all cost even though I love to swim just because I was afraid of someone seeing my scars and thinking that I was crazy. That is no way to live life, now I know that no matter how bad your past is or what happenrd or is happening to you, you don’t have to be alone with all of that pain and anger. Stopping is very hard and you may go back to it but just think do you want to live the rest of your life tied down by the cycle that might kill you? I urge all of you who are reading this whether you or someone you know cuts please reach out to someone for help. You’ve already taken the first step by coming to this site. Remember there will always be those of us who feel your pain and can help you to get through it. Above I have listed my e-mail adress if you need to talk to someone, I may not always be online but I will e-mail you back and try and help you. Thank you for taking time to read this.


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