Lucky Me

Copyright, Veronica

I have always been the “good girl”. At least, that’s how I was raised. Since the day I was born, I was handled as if I was made of crystal. My mother was very young, so her four brothers and sisters, her mother, step-father, practically every one had a hand in raising me. You would never think I would end up injuring myself, on purpose. I did not know what self-injury was until I reached high school, which shows how clueless I was. I knew a girl who was a year older than I am. Her life was a living hell. She told me that it got to the point were crying or even punching a pillow wouldn’t relieve her pain. So, she turned to cutting. I could not believe how many scars she had all over her body. No wonder she always covered herself even when it was majorly hot.

Anyway, I told myself that I would never do that to myself. Boy I was wrong. I used to live with my mother and step-father until I was five. My grandmother raised me in Mexico because my mother was still getting her life together (and my younger sister was already born). I returned six years later.

I tried to fit in with my step-father’s family, but they ignored me. I would end up sitting by myself reading or listening to music. My step-father would assume that I was just being plain rude. He accused me of being a two-face because I acted “nice” toward my mom’s family and “mean” toward his. Me, having the low-self esteem that I have, kept my mouth shut. I bottled everything inside, which hurt me deeply.

I could not stand it any longer. I tried crying, writing, music, punching, video games, everything. It just didn’t work anymore. Then, I remembered that girl. So, I grabbed my scissors and… Well… I released my pain. I felt relieved for about an hour or so. Then I went at it again. I became addicted after that.

Later, my best friend found out. She wanted to helped me, but I was too stubborn. Until she threatened to destroy our friendship — then I listened. I stopped for about a year, using a rubber band to control myself (I had it as a bracelet and snapped it when I got the urge). A few months ago, I fell back into it, but only cut once. By that time I had my first boyfriend. He knew about it, and made sure I didn’t cut again. I confessed what I did, and he was very understanding. I am not fully recovered yet, but with my friends and God, I am sure I will lose the addiction for good.

A word of advise for both victims and witnesses: “Just because you are smart does not mean you won’t do something stupid.”


Permanent location: