One cut a day keeps the shrink away!
Self mutilation, cutting, scarification, it all sounded bollocks to me. Nothing for me, just a stupid teenage thing to do. I grew out of my teens completely free from cuts.Then I got into the black metal underground scene where skarz are big, at least in France. Check out antaeus "cut your flesh and worship satan" to get an idea of it. And I still remained free from any cuts.
And then one day it came, i did not understand why, or how. I got mad at my dad, for some stupid reason. Promiscuity probably being the main cause. I went to my room, aged 23ish and picked up a knife just to look at it. Then suddenly it came to my mind. Cutting, blood, what was it going to feel like. Head turning, spinning faster and faster. Playing with the blade, push my fingers' flesh until the blade bites in... nice and gentle no blood.
Ideas keep rushing in my mind, that urge to push the blade deeper, to feel the pain, see the blood.
I took my T shirt off, looked at my shoulder, took the knife and I stuffed it in. It burned, the blade was not that sharp, it hurt, and yet it released the pain and the anger. Peace through cuts was the way for me. I kept doing it on a daily basis with a knife. One cut a day keeps the shrink away I guess!
Next big step : moving to proper blades. The cheapest blades would do the trick. I went to the supermarket, did the family shopping, and treated myself to some blades. My hands were all shaky... I was actually picking the blades that I was going to stick into my flesh! That was something huge and disturbing, but so incredibly personal and exciting. I went back home, and looked at the tiny box. 10 blades, by the end of the box I decided that I had to quit what was turning into a bad habit. I was getting cut-hololic like one could turn alcoholic. Weird feeling. Looking at the box was enough for a few days... but I still felt the urge for the blade to bite my flesh and sink in it.
And the big day came : first razor blade cut. I pushed the blade just like with a knife... the flesh opened, but no blood came out at first?! How surprising, and it came, it rushed. my arm was covering in blood, nice and quick. And it felt bloody good. (huhu that was a funny thing to write, ain't it)
As the 9 remaining days and blades passed by, I started to enjoy it so much that it was losing its appeal. What was meant to be anger release through physical pain slowly turned into a twisted kind of pleasure. The pleasurable side of it had wasted all the fun. I was now happy to cut and see the blood. It had lost all its power.
The box came to an end, so did the appeal for cutting, a funny way to stop I guess.
I am now left with quite some scars on my shoulders. I have watched evolve over the months. From bumpy they moved to shallow. I guess my mental recovery has been faster than my arms'. I have quit that habit, and yes although quite "twisted" for mainstream people, it did help me to get over the depression I had been fighting with for ages. I still love to look at these scars, and touch them. They mean a real big lot to me.
No matter how many scars I had accumulated in these 3 to 4 weeks, nobody knew, aside from my girlfriend. Although she was definitely not cool about it, she was cool with me, we talked it over. And although she did not understand the need for the cut, she understood the necessity it was for me at that time. That might sound stupid, but it was a big positive thing for me. I kept my scars under silence for a long time, I was almost ashamed. One day I decided to stand for myself. That meant telling my family about my scars. I told them how it had happened, and why. They were to know what I had been through. Getting all this out was the last big release I needed. I was maybe not as perfect as they wish I were, but I was myself, and like it or not they would have to deal with this. This has been a very positive. I came out of the closet I had been stuck in. Not the "gay" closet, but the "no perfect boy" closet.
I also turned veggie at that point, and dropped alcohol more recently. I got my life back into my own hands. It took some scars but it was worth it in the end.
Salvation through pain had been my way.
I hope all you buddies will find yours, not necessarily through cutting.
I regard my experience as fairly positive, no matter how strange this may sound!
Next mod project : get my leg tattooed, almost solid black and red tribalish style. You'll get the photos ASAP, and probably later on an ram tattoo in the same style to cover-up the scars
submitted by: Anonymous
on: 22 Feb. 2007