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The cutting club

I first started to cut myself when I was twelve years old. At the time, it was a way to release anger and stress. At first it was only paper-clip scratches - then I moved on to burning myself with matches, then more severe burns, and finally back to cutting, this time with razor blades. By the time I was fourteen, the cutting had become extremely severe - I was cutting my breasts very deeply, sometimes losing dangerous amounts of blood, coming very close to large veins, etc. At one point I sewed up a cut using a sewing needle and dental floss (NOT recommended, it hurt like fuck, was very unsterile, and I was extremely lucky to not get a severe infection) because I was afraid my breast would become disfigured if the cut wasn't closed properly.

Anyway, when I was fourteen I told my parents, who sent me to a psychiartist, who sent me to a psychiatric hospital. It was a hellish experience, which I will not go into. Suffice to say that several people, including myself, came very close to dying as a direct result of the staff's inattention, minimilization of our problems, and refusal to listen.

I met several other 'cutters' at the hospital, in particular two girls, Galit (who I had a tremendous crush on, one of my first lesbian crushes, a crush which I have still not gotten over to this day. She had a nipple piercing, which she showed me, which I loved, and a clitoris piercing, which I thought was highly cool even though she didn't show me) and Inbal (who I also had a crush on, but one more minor than Galit). And eventually, we began to cut together.

I think it started when Galit got a couple pieces of glass from someplace. She mentioned she had glass, and I said I'd like some too. So we went into the bathroom, crowded together in one of the small stalls, and started cutting. We were giggly at first, nervous about being caught, but then as we cut more and more, we went off into our private little worlds, only occasionally stopping to comment on a cut, or, in my case, asking if we could switch glass because hers was sharper (a bad idea, as many nasty diseases can be passed through glass. It wasn't sterile, either, come to think of it).

Eventually one of us said it was enough, and we stopped. Can't remember what we did with the glass - either hid it or Galit took it.

The second time was all three of us. During a rare outing, Galit had found a Japanese knife (the kind you can snap blades off, usually used for cutting cardboard) underneath the driver's car (no idea what it was doing there, perhaps part of some sort of kit). She showed me, and I took it (it was eventually found and confisticated, sigh). Later that day (or week?) Galit and Inbal said they wanted to cut and bugged me till I agreed to give them one of the blades, as long as I could also cut with them.

This time was much more... interesting than the bathroom experience. We sat in Inbal's room and passed the knife around, bleeding onto some sort of black cloth to keep the blood from showing and the nurses from asking question. We sat in a circle behind the bed, incense burning, cutting. There was some possessiveness about the blade, which led to me getting only a couple cuts before a staff member came in. He took Inbal and Galit away to the nurses station for medical attention - I'm not sure he noticed my cuts, or perhaps two psycho girls were all he could handle.

At any rate... I was rather pissed at being excluded from the medical-attention bit, not because I also wanted attention, but because it was also a part of our ritual and I didn't like being excluded from the threesome. So... I took one of my other hidden blades and cut my wrist above the veins. NOT recommended, there are tendons there which I nearly sliced. I made a near-complete bracelet around my wrist, only stopping when there was a lot of blood and I was feeling rather faint. I joined the others in the nurses station, all of us giggling rather hysterically as the nurses stitched our wound.

At first I was very concerned about our habit of group cutting, not sure if it was ethically and morally okay. Now I think it was. We were all three severe cutters - I was nicknamed the Cutter and nearly always had both my arms wrapped in bandages from wrist to elbow, and the others also sported deep cuts, Galit at one time needing to go to a hospital for a complicated cut that could not be easily stitched. Cutting together kept us from going too far - yes, there was a competitive feel to it, so getting carried away was a danger, but for us, it kept us from cutting too much, too deep, because the others were there to stop us.


submitted by: Anonymous
on: 07 Jan. 2006
in Ritual

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