Copyright Melissa

My name is Melissa, I am twenty-three years old and I have been harming myself for ten years. I went through counselling, and like many self injurers, I was placed there not at my own will so of course I lied my way right out of there. When I was fifteen I realised that there was no way I was going to get better unless I took charge and helped myself. I went to my local bookstore and bought every book I could find about self-harm. I eventually when I turned twenty and was a sophomore in college, was able to stop harming myself for two and a half years. Although I have an amazing boyfriend of a year and a half, six months ago I had a moment where I did not want to control my actions so I hurt myself. My boyfriend is an amazing support system in my life but sometimes that just isn’t enough. He is understanding of this disorder but still does not like it. So I sat down and explained to him how I interpret this disorder. Self-harm is an addiction, an addiction to feel. Just like and alcoholic is still an alcoholic even after being sober for fifteen years, a day does not go by that they don’t want a drink. I feel the same way, I can be free of self-harm for years but a day does not go by that I don’t think about wanting to hurt myself. It takes time. There will be plenty of slip-ups, ups and downs but I think that if I can make it through, knowing what I know now and the support system that I have made, that there are many others out there that can do the same.

My Story

Copyright Melissa

My name is Melissa. I’m fourteen years old and about a year ago I became familiar with cutting. Some of my friends said they do it and said it helped them get through some tough times that they were going through so I thought I’d try it but I never knew it would screw up my life as bad as it did. As life went on a lot of things started to happen and I started to get really stressed out. When my friends first told me that they were cutting I told myself I wasn’t going to get involved but as life went on and I started to get more and more stressed out about things, I felt a burden so heavy I would do anything to make it go away. I just wanted to die, but I could never get the courage to take a gun or knife and kill myself so I started drinking alcohol because I knew it was a way I could die but without the pain, but it wasn’t strong enough so I started to cut. I would cut and cut to try to equal the pain I felt in my heart so I could thing about something else besides what was going on, but the pain I felt from my cuts would never equal up to the pain I felt in my heart, but I couldn’t just stop because it had become a habit and I started to do it regularly. In a way I wanted to quit but I didn’t know how I was going to just stop when it had become a way of life. One day I had finally told one of my close friends that didn’t cut about my problem and they started to help me through my pain but I still had a hole in my heart and I would do anything to fill it, so I turned to God, and ever since I’ve been living the way He wants me to I don’t feel the pain anymore or the hole in my heart that I was trying to fill for so long.


Copyright Melissa

I’m sixteen. I’ve been cutting and pulling my hair out for three years. Only three people know I do this. My ‘best’ friend, one of my really good friends, and a nurse that saw my arm, but did nothing about it. This nurse, she pulled my sleeve up to check my blood pressure, she saw it and pushed my sleeve back down. She looked at me with such disgust, I felt like dying. My ‘best’ friend says she cuts, and I figured it’d be easier to admit to another cutter. She doesn’t cut though, she pretends to, and then tells a ton of people she does, and says how horrible her life is. This makes me feel like cutting even more. Just the fact that she commercialises my problem. I couldn’t even fathom why someone would want to have this problem. It’s the most addicting form of bliss I have ever felt. She ruins my release by telling me how she cuts deeper and how I shouldn’t do it because I have no problems. I’m so ashamed, and yet, sometimes I feel like pulling up my sleeves in front of everyone, telling them they all made me do this to myself, and then killing myself. Not for any symbolic reason, just because it seems like the most appropriate thing to do. It’s the only way I see fit. I don’t know what else to do, cutting was my way to get rid of the pain. Now that every time I do it, I think of how horrible my ‘friend’ makes me feel, it ruined my experience. I have no clue what else I could do to substitute. I don’t wanna stop. I’m not ready to. I need this.


Copyright Melissa

My name’s Melissa and I’m fifteen. I’ve been recovering, as I like to call it, for almost a year now. I cut for five. I just want everyone to know that there are other ways, and if anyone needs help, or just someone to talk to, feel free to e-mail me. I’m always here to listen. I’ve worked in a few hospitals telling my story to girls and boys who were just like me, including the hospitals I was checked into numerous times. The life of a cutter is no way to live. So if you think I can help in any way, please contact me. I’m just here to help, and even to listen. So I implore you all to seek help, even if it is not mine, and go into recovery, because it is a feeling that cannot be topped by anything, and cannot be broken down by anyone.


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