Copyright, SlashdKatie

I’m fifteen and a cutter. I’ve been put in and out of therapy for three years now. Cutting is a major part of my life and I know it’s bad but it’s an addiction so powerful it’s like no matter what you can’t stop. I was adopted from birth. Sadly by the wrong people. I would get teased and treated like shit at school then come home to begin screaming matches with my dad and mom which almost always ended with me getting beaten, thrown into my room, and crying my eyes out. I first started cutting in 6th grade when I just was fed up with my life and angry at the world for destroying my soul. I snuck downstairs where I found an exacto knife. I ran back up to my room closed the door and locked it. I touched the blade to my wrist and a tingle shot through my scalp. I slid it straight across and repeated that several times. Afterward I felt amazing, as if all my pain had draind away and my body was numb. Thus the addiction began. I would come home every day and lock myself in my room with my new best friend exacto. It was as if I was finally in control, finally real. I attempted suicide the first time after learning that my only friend had killed herself. I downed a bottle and a half of Advil. Two days later they admitted me to the hospital and that began the rollercoaster of a life filled with torture, agony and mental hospitals. One night after being blamed for my parent’s dying relationship and being whipped across my face with a belt I broke open a brand new shaving razor (never been used) took the blade closed my eyes and made ten slits all of which cut right threw my entire skin layer and right to the fatty tissue underneath. I was rushed to the hospital and wound up with 120 stitches . That event scared me enough to allow them to admit me to an intensive inpatient thing at the hospital. I was released a month later. I was able to control and stop myself from cutting for two weeks but then something happened I will never forget. I cut myself forty times that night and overdosed on a bottle of Advil. Unfortunately the Advil didn’t work. I was put into Inova Kellar Center Day Treatment Program shortly after and I am still in it with one more week to go. I still cut myself because the Kellar people don’t help much mostly they make it worse for me. Who knows, maybe someday I’ll get better and finally be happy again. But for now there’s no telling what the next step may be. I’m fifteen and a cutter. This is my story so far.


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