My Recovery

Copyright, Vixen

It started when I was 12 in my first year of High School, I started to feel suicidal because I also had a little brother on the way, and my parents were so much different with me, they seemed to not care. I didn’t like the newfound pressures of high school, so I started to just scratch at my arms, then it got deeper the more upset I got. Then it became an addiction and I couldn’t stop it and it helped me, or so I thought. I kept it to myself, and then one night I got so upset, I carved into my wrists with a blunt penknife, and it took away the thoughts, all I felt was physical pain, and it felt good. The next day in food tech I had to show the cuts to my teacher because she said they need to be covered while we’re cooking. She asked how I did it and I said I fell and scuffed my wrists, she believed me. That was the first time I felt regret.

The next few months I carried on cutting, hiding it, cutting, hiding it. It was a vicious circle. I cut because I was unhappy, I was unhappy because I was alone, and I was alone because I was blocking people out. I carried on, hiding behind my smile and lying to the people I was closest to. Then things seemed to be alot better, the family became better, school got better, and my life seemed to be getting a lot better.

Then I found out my mum was pregnant again accidentally, and it killed me, inside I felt like I’d died inside and for the first time in my life, I’d felt betrayed by my mum. I really wanted her to have an abortion, although I never said it to her, it seems like a selfish thing to say, but I felt so alone and threatened.

In my 2nd year of high school, I spoke to a school mentor about it, after I’d tried to slit my wrists again, and she helped so much, she was great, and she helped me get myself sorted and happy for the first time in years. I felt like I didn’t need her anymore so I told her I’d be OK without her from now onwards, and I was fine. What had really happened was I’d just found a new way to cover up my true feelings.

I’d go home and cry over everything, and then I’d cut again, and It was just so tempting to do, I couldn’t stop it, I tried everything, but I always found a way to counteract it.

Then I started dating this really nice guy and he cared for me so much, he didn’t know about my cutting, but I knew that it’d crush him to find out, and my best friends both helped also, and they were so supportive, they were there for me, so I managed to finally give up cutting, and to this day (02 april 2004) I haven’t cut myself once, the last cut I did was a really deep X in my thigh, and it hurt, and bled for a solid 2 hours, my friend was there to help me through it.

I finally gave up cutting, and became more confident, since some of my scars had faded. Then March this year, this person at school said the most hurtful things to me, and I thought he was a friend. That finalised my ideas, I took an overdose and I ended up in hospital for the night, I was dying for 4 hours, and then they told me I’d recover, and I felt strange. Since then, everyone who cares for me has made it known that they are there for me, and that I can talk to them, and since then I have slowly stopped blocking people, because the reason I was alone, was because I turned my back on everyone.

Now, I can talk to so many different people, and trust so much more.

You don’t need to go that far to realise you are loved, wanted and cared for. So many people will miss you if you’re gone, and they will gladly help you if you need it. All you need to do is show you want to overcome your problems, you can make your own decisions, but sometimes you need to take advice that people give you. Please consider this before you do anything.

False Pretences

Copyright, Vixen

I thought I was OK but I now realise I am not. I’m currently going to counselling every two weeks but that doesn’t seem to be working, I have to live in my house still and the people who are meant to love me and be there for me, are the ones who are slowly killing me. I really want to kill myself and if it wasn’t for my friends I would have. I have the pills hidden in a bag in my room, ready to go whenever I need them. I also have a razor blade in my room, hidden in my makeup bag. People always go on about how they all love me and my friends are always saying please don’t do it but they can’t help me. They can’t take me away from where I am and make everything OK. They just don’t seem to realise no matter how much they say they do. I hate it when people say it could be worse as well because when you think of it, no it couldn’t because this is the worst it has ever been for me so this is the worst, therefore it couldn’t be worse than the worse for me. And that is what they are talking about, me. I don’t cut or anything because I managed to stop that, but I have outbursts of tears and anger, mainly when I’m alone, but sometimes it slips out…

I’m glad I quit cutting but sometimes I wish I still had it as a release. Instead I constantly have a pain inside that hurts me. It’s always there and never leaves. I found out about two months ago that I had a weak heart and may have needed to go for an op that I would have had a forty percent chance of dying in. I was scared at first and then I thought… why? If I am able to do this to myself, why don’t I take this as an oppurtunity? A death that I want, without all the millions of questions of why afterwards. It was perfect. But anyway the pills I was prescribed helped strengthen my heart and I didn’t need the op after all. I was happy but then upset again when I thought about it more deeply. My cover had been blown.

I still have all these suicidal thoughts and they seem stronger than ever nowadays, I want to die and do not know what I can do to help. It is my escape and my way out…


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