Why I cut
I guess I started to cut when I was in high school. I found it as a way to release my anger inside and to make the pain inside go away and come out in blood on my wrists, arms and legs. I first started with a ink pen type of thing, it was used to dip into india ink and draw with. It was very sharp and cut well. I was only 15 and unable to get a real knife at the time.
When I was old enough I bought a pocket knife and sharpened it every day just in case I needed it. I would have a bad day or week, come home and put on depressing music. It would of course make things worse. Then I would write a sad poem or mean poem. It was my way to vent when I was unable to talk to someone. I had lots going on and severe depression. Then when I knew I would not get caught I would take the knife to my skin. Slowly I would run the blade over my arms and then faster and deeper cuts. I felt a release that I could not feel from telling someone my problems or from going to counseling.
The blood would run down my arm and after a time I would clean up and go to bed. I did have to cover it up from my mom and friends whom would not understand and probably have me institutionalized. I just could not find the real me and this was something I had control over and something I could do to release pent up depression.
I could not go to a hospital and I could not take medication at the time since we had no insurance. I knew it was bad and wrong for me but it was something I liked to do. I did not want to stand the ridicule of others so I always kept it hidden. No one knew and I made sure that no one knew of how I really felt inside.
When I got married and had kids I thought it was over. I was cured and could move on. Well alas, I was wrong. I did it off and on in the beginning and kept them small and well hidden. I started to take medication for depression and O.C.D. It seemed every year or so I had to up the dose to keep sane. The pills worked on my moods but still the want and need to cut was there. To still see the control I could have and what I could do. I also started to pierce professionally. I loved it. I think I had up to 19 at one time and also started to pierce others. Still it was not the same as taking a shiny, sharp blade to my skin. I loved the feel of the skin splitting and the blood flowing freely. The pain I felt getting into a hot shower as the water hit the cuts and the scars that it left. Some of the scars fade over time and some stay. I do have to explain some of them saying it was a cat or an accident but no one is the wiser. It is still a form of release for me when I'm alone and feeling down. I do this when I am alone and I know no one will find out. I would never want my children to find out and think ill of me. I don't want them to ever become like me in that way and hurt themselves to release pent up pain inside. I wish I had had someone to talk to and who would have understood me. I never had that.
I so don't condone this for anyone. Someone who does not know what it is like and who has not done it can do some serious damage. They could really hurt themselves. Also someone could get a serious infection and have to go to the hospital and explain that to the doctors and loved ones. It is a problem some have and should get help when they are ready. Talking to someone who is a professional can help you in the long run and also to avoid doing any serious damage. Medications and meditation and counseling can help those who are ready to help themselves. People who need help can do it personally and confidentially so they don't feel threatened and afraid of what someone will say. I did get help and cut less often but for me the need it still there and I do hope someday it does not come back to bite me in the butt. I am not ashamed, I just don't want someone to think I am insane and put me away.
submitted by: Anonymous
on: 03 Dec. 2005