My Life So Far

Copyright SamL

I guess you could say that the cutting and everything pretty much started when I was five. I know that is very young but I guess you really wouldn’t call it cutting either. What happened was I was way mad at my parents for something, and I was just in tears like most five year olds get. I had a bunk bed and when I was climbing up it to get to the top, since my parents sent me to my room, I slipped and cut my leg on a metal spring that had been sticking out. All I did was look at it, and instead of crying harder, like most five year olds would, I stopped crying… it didn’t hurt at all. So since then I knew I was just a little bit different, I knew that if I was mad enough of sad enough I could hurt myself and instead of it hurting it’d make me feel better. So besides my dad never being home when I grew up since he worked three jobs everything was pretty good, I still wondered all the time why I didn’t have a dad to screw around with and wrestle with but I got used to it. I also got used to alot of the yelling my parents would do when they were home together, and I didn’t think much of it. Not until I started actually going to my friends houses, and seeing what their families were like did I notice that mine was just a little bit different. It bugged me to think about it so I didn’t. Not until we moved into our new house did anything go completly out of control, my mom and dad started fighting more, my mom ended up stealing drugs from her work, and became an alcoholic, my dad started working more again and he the yelling between both my parents started to get really bad. I can remember sitting in my room hugging my little brother and covering his ears so that he wouldn’t hear some of the things no kid his age should hear. I was completly scared of my dad and scared enough of my mom that I wasn’t going to tell her anything. My dad was abused when he was little and I could feel the tension building. Sometimes he’d come soo close to hitting me and I would just shrink down and run into my room. He never actually touched me until one night me and my brother had been having an argument and he slapped me across the face… my mom wasn’t home so she didn’t know and my brother had been in his room crying. No one knew but me and him, and I couldn’t bring up the courage to tell anybody. So this kept going on between me and him it was like a big secret that only me and him knew and I wasn’t going to tell and neither was he. I didn’t start cutting though until I got my first boyfriend in 7th grade. I was excited and I felt loved for the first time in a very long time. Therefore I did a lot more stuff at first than when I wanted to. He’d pull my hand down to his crotch and tell me to give him a hand job since I was afraid I’d lose him I did. It wasn’t a very healthy relationship but he told me he loved me and I believed him. Things started to go further until he’d start pushing my head down and ask for a blow job, this I knew I didn’t want to do and I told him no way. And then he broke up with me. I was devastated. But then two days later he told me he was sorry he asked me out again… then he started to make threats if I didn’t do stuff for him. Plus he’d still break up with me and then threaten me into going back out with him. Eventually it got so far that he was trying to get me to have sex with him. I never said yes but it happened anyway. It happened five times and each time he had a smile on his face… and I was just scared to death. Eventually he turned eighteen and after a couple months he’d moved on to someone older. Since I was only thirteen at the time. And he moved on to a nineteen year old. I’d started cutting during all of this and no one knew except for me. Not until 9th grade (this last year) when I told my best friend. Had this not been enough at the end of this school year someone found out about my dad hitting me. I had a huge bruise on my face and no way to explain it away. So I gave in, I had to go talk to cops and take pictures and then my dad got thrown in jail. He’s out now and we’ve already had a pre-trial. There’s social workers, and in-home counsellors all over my house, and eventually I found a way to explain that I had just lied about the bruise so that my family could get a counsellor. And it pretty muched worked. Even though on september 20th there’s still a trial, but whatever. My mom found out about the cutting and didn’t do anything about it, I told her I’d never do it again and she believed me. In the meantime I’m still cutting, just last week I put a nice cross on my shoulder along with a cut and a lighter burn. So I guess you could say I’m still not through it. But whatever, who cares. I’m not dying so I guess I’m alright.


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