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My Self Injury History

Hey everyone.  This is going to tell my story with cutting.  I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed doing it, which was a lot.  Just to let you know, I am fifteen and just started cutting a few months ago.  I am also going to tell you now that I live a good life, have good grades, a terrific family and all of that what not.  Being honest I find cutting as just a way to break my facade of the good girl, and also as a way to kill the boredom of my less-than-exciting life. 

My first experience with cutting was not long ago, September 12, this year, 2009, to be specific.  I had been contemplating it for a while, and that night was kind of just a breaking point for me.  Me and my sister got into one of our very rare fights, and that left me feeling a little depressed.  I had already taken a razor from my mom's toolbox, a replacement for her Stanley knife, but before that night I had always been to much of a coward to use it.  The fight, though over something useless, had upset me enough to get the razor. 

So, I got the razor from the place I had kept it hidden.  I held it to my wrist before I started thinking.  I honestly did not want anyone to know about this, even if it was just this once - which I doubted it would just be this once.  So I pulled up my pant leg and looked at my ankle.  It was the perfect spot; all I would have to do to hide it would be to wear socks, which I did anyways.  I would have gone for my whole legs, but I have to dress out for gym and my friends would have noticed.  So, I gently pushed the razor into my ankle, not knowing how sharp it was and not wanting to take any chances on the depth. 

I cringed slightly at the dull pain, but it was not as bad as I had been expecting.  I pushed the razor in deeper and smiled when the blood started to dot along the small wound.  I dragged it slowly, cringing more as the pain increased.  When I finished the cut was about an inch long, though not deep at all.  It never bleed more than the dots, but it was enough for me.  I did this a few more times, then grabbed a pair of socks from my dresser and folded up a tissue to make sure the sock did not get bloody; that would have been impossible to explain when my mom did laundry. 

And so, as I had partially expected, this became a part of my weekly schedule.  At least once a week I cut, sometimes twice.  They were never very deep, just enough to have a little bit of red on my razor.  I must admit, I am kind of surprised they never get infected; I never cleaned them.  The best protection they had was a piece of folded tissue in between them and my socks. 

(Note- I do not encourage this method of aftercare.  If you self-injure, please do not follow my example of not cleaning them.  I have realized that this method is not a good idea.) 

So, as I stated, this continued on for a few weeks.  I tried to stop after three weeks or so, but found out quickly how difficult it was.  I did not last the weekend before I had the razor in hand again.  I suppose if I had truly wanted to stop I would have gotten rid of razor, or told someone.  Neither of which crossed my mind.  I have done a wonderful job hiding the scars, with only one close encounter. 

After the fight that got me started, my sister and I quickly made up.  About a month or so after we got a new computer game we had both been dying for.  I had been so excited I had totally forgot to cover up my scars.  My sister had gotten a glimpse of them, though I easily convinced her that she was just seeing things.  Luckily for me I had not cut in a while, so there was no bright red just faded pinks. 

My most recent cutting was just a few days ago.  I got bored and was home alone, so I figured I would play with my razor.  I got it and traced a heart on my wrist.  I did not think it would actually show up.  I also decided that I would put an 'X' just below my left knee.  It's rather large, and I am actually looking forward to someone seeing it, just for their reaction.  I hope it does not fade too much before the next dress out day in gym.  I know I said earlier that I did not want anyone to see, but something just kind of snapped in me, and i don't care who sees... just as long as it is not family. 

Oh, and remember that heart I was talking about?  Yea, about fifteen minutes later that showed up in a light red.  I have done a decent job hiding it at home, and I do not even bother trying to hide it at school.  I also try to hide it from teachers, they could easily tell my parents. 

So, that is the end of my experiences with cutting; for now anyways.  I might write something else someday, but I don't know for sure.  And before I really end this, I want to apologize if this is sounding a bit like a diary entry;  I write in that thing about all of this.  I also want to thank you for taking the time to read this.  My email should be displayed somewhere on here, so feel free to message me.  Just remember that I am only fifteen, and not the most sociable person.

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submitted by: emolurver
on: 23 Nov. 2009
in Ritual

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