• 177,273 / 1,368,679
  • 85 / 7,822
  • 874 / 54,895

comfort

Sitting here with the blank screen, it's hard to know what to write!

This is not the first time i've told someone about my cutting...but it's just as hard.

I suppose a bit of background.....I was molested by my dad, my mom then raised myself and my brothers as a single parent, though she had a few boyfriends who, along with my brothers, seemed to take priority over me.

I've always been quiet...I think painfully shy kinda covers it, so i've never made friends easily, this added to an already low self esteem.

I know this will all sound like excuses or that i'm trying to justify my self harm, but i'm not. In fact i'm pretty sure that without all these things happening I still would be the emotiotional mess that I am....this is all just background.

Cutting wasn't my first leap into self harm...binge eating, starving myself..all ways of punishing myself for not being "good enough".

I've contemplated suicide many times, the first being just after my eighth birthday, right before my first holy communion. I remember lying in bed planning how I would stop myself breathing, but that, like every other time, I was too chicken to go through with it. The only time I got close was after I had a miscarriage at 18....my boyfriend is not the most open person so after spending the day alone in a hospital (nobody but myself and my boyfriend knew I was pregnant), I eventually got to see my boyfriend who hugged me and told me "there eill be other babies". That was the last time it was mentioned, but I constalntly thought about how different my life would be had I not lost that baby.....that lead to hating myself more...was I being punished for being such a mess?? I grabbed a bottle of paracetamol and headed for the bathroom, emptied the pills in my hand, swallowed a couple but again couldn't bring myself to go any further.

I'm a really emotional person, I cry easily and get upset over the smallest thing, but as I mentioned earlier, i'm not exactly the star attraction at home, so I realised there was no point showing my emotion or pain because it would be ignored, or worse, I would hear "there she goes again" or "attention seeker", so I kept it to myself.

After years of bottling up all my pain and frustration, I searched for a release, and one day while silently sobbing in my room, i found a scissors lying on my dresser. Before I even realised what I i was doing, I had slid the blade across my wrist.

Feeling the sting gave me instant satisfaction....all the silent anger and pain I couldn't show finally had a way out.

The thoughts and feelings I tried so hard to cover and pretend wern't there finally had a voice.

I cut regularly from then, always my wrist, then slowly moving up my arm, covering with bracelets and watches.

I never cut too deep and i don't deliberately try to draw much blood. Just feeling the control I have over my body and seeing the red mark appearing is enough to give me the boost I need.

Once my boyfriend asked me what had happened,I was brutally honest and told him I cut myself using a scissors. I was so happy I finally had someone to talk to about it....but he said nothing as he turned away from me. The subject has never been raised again, no matter how many cuts I have along my arm.

Last summer i even stopped covering my scars and fresh cuts, but nobody noticed, or if they did, nothing was mentioned....i dont know why I stopped covering them, maybe I wanted them to be noticed, maybe everyone is right after all and I am an attention seeker?!?

I feel ashamed of my actions, I wish I had another way of dealing with my problems and emotions...but at the same time, when I look at my scars i'm proud. Each one of them represents a pain or trauma. I can tell you the exact story or event which lead to each litle marks existance...and as long as the scars are here, so am I.

Cutting is all I have. It's my comfort...

At this time it's been a few months since I last cut...but I know I have my scissors in my room, needles in my make up case and razors in the bathroom....waiting to comfort me when I need them.

Reading back,this story is pretty depressing, but its not intended that way....as I said i'm still here, coping.

Cutting is a bad thing, it's destructive and harmfull and I don't condone or encourage others to start cutting. But to some, it's a release or comfort....

Sorry for going on forever, but thank you for reading :)

Details

submitted by: Anonymous
on: 22 Feb. 2007
in Ritual

Use this link to share:


Artist: me
Studio: +
Location: +

Comments (0)

add a comment

There are no comments for this entry

Back to Top