Cutting. Burning. Scratching. We are becoming more and more aware of what people are doing in secret and hiding very well. Telling no one they continue on, slowly destroying themselves. Now we’re starting to hear their stories so we can understand. They tell us how horrible things were, and how the pain brought a little peace, a bit of calm. I want to tell you what happened to me, but I want to tell you about the consequences. How even though I stopped, it is still very much with me.

I started cutting myself because I hadn’t been successful with forced vomiting. I blamed myself for something that had happened to me, something that was hardly my fault. Yet, I wanted to feel in control, and by telling myself it was my fault, I gained a bit of reason. But along with that came two things, guilt and shame. They overwhelmed me and never left. I very quickly destroyed everything about me. My self-esteem, which I had always found to be much higher then those around me, sometimes even adults, crumbled. My faith in God ended the way water does when you turn it off. I felt lonely; nobody realized how much what happened was devastating me. The person I valued most was gone. I had to punish myself. Who did I think I was? I was a horrible person.

I started listening to negative music like the songs were written for me. Should I talk slower like you’re a retard? Get it? Get it? You just don’t get it, stupid mf. Did anybody think that you would really seriously slit your wrists? In fact I think that everybody thinks you're seriously full of s***. It’s time you invested in a bottle of poison. So we don’t have to hear about your b****in’ and moanin’. I got to the point that if someone had started beating up on me, I wouldn’t have stopped it. I had to hurt myself so I could calm down enough to sleep and even then my dreams we’re plagued with a forgiveness that dissolved when I woke up.

But when I stopped, things didn’t snap into place again. Even though my razors were gone, the feelings lingered. While the guilt and shame were no longer tied to me, weighing me down, I had a long journey back to being ok. Being joyful like I used to be seemed a far away place. I fought to just feel normal again, to stop being crazy. I was paranoid about everything I could get myself worked up over. I still don’t feel right. I’ve come to realize I will never be the same person again.

When I feel so down and tormented again, I have to fight the desire to go back. Knowing that some pain would bring me enough calm so I could stop freaking out and end my suppressed wailing that lasted hours. I started bottling everything forbidden. Sadness, fury, envy, hate all got swallowed and shelved. It still didn’t help.

The worst part is the scars. I felt like a freak, like I should be in a show. Look at her she’s a cutter, look at her arms, all striped with scars. They’re hideous! And she did it all herself! Freak! But I got tired of being trapped in hoodies, of sweating in layers if I felt like wearing a t-shirt. So I started dressing like they weren’t there. People don’t always notice but I’m always terrified when I’m standing close to someone. Franticly hoping they don’t break eye contact to glance down, to look at me and ask what happened. I think it’s painfully obvious but people always ask. And I never lie. Sometimes they’re so oblivious they even ask why. “Because I wanted to” and still they don’t understand.

I want to tell you that hurting yourself won’t help. You are destroying yourself. No matter what happened, you aren’t the person you think you are. Some things just happen. You don’t expect them; your world gets shattered in just a few hours and you feel alone and broken. But it’s not worth it. Everything ends worse then before. Find someone to talk to or do everything possible to distract yourself. Work hard so you fall asleep right away and don’t have a chance to think about it. Even if you are fine right now, something might happen that could bring you to start. I never thought I would do it. But we hear these stories and it’s never stressed enough what a terrible thing it grows into. People don’t realize that they are planting ideas in our heads we reach for when it seems there’s nothing else. But I’m telling you it’s a horrible thing to start. The consequences are not worth feeling ok for a few hours. There are so many other things that will actually help you. Try talking anonymously online to therapists, find something you can obsess over, or talk to a responsible friend. Don’t focus on what happened. And no, simply cutting your hair short and painting a picture will not fix you. It is going to take work. Every day, little by little, you get closer.
The best way I can describe cutting is like putting up the same sticky note over and over. It stops working. You have to press it on harder and harder and the time it lasts shortens. It works the same way. To feel better the pain has to increase. You have to go deeper. You have to do it more often. What you are doing is very dangerous. Please, find someone you can talk to. You can’t do this the rest of your life. Remember, nothing lasts forever. Everything has a season. Things will get better, you just have to wait and look for it.