Warning: This post is a very personal experience of cutting and may trigger issues for some readers.
In Australia, 200,000 people harm themselves every month. Many of them are teenagers.
By ANONYMOUS
Every time I come across a story on ‘self-harming’ I am physically sick to my stomach. The mere mention triggers memories of intense feelings of guilt and self-loathing. It is a reminder of my ‘dirty secret’. A secret which is hard to forget when I remove my ‘armour’; my 25 year old scars are hidden by the designer watches and bracelets I adorn myself with.
As I remove my adornments I feel that very same sense of vulnerability come back, thankfully I accept those feelings and I now know how to deal with them differently.
My first memory of self-harming was at around 12 or 13 years of age. I remember feeling a combined sense of comfort and some kind of adrenaline rush, as I would sneak a razor blade or a knife into my bedroom with me – ‘just in case’.
I have always been a person that feels deeply; I have learnt to accept that is very much who I am. Those close to me often refer to me as being ‘passionate’ and there is no doubt that I am passionate; I feel the emotional peaks and troughs of life completely. When I love, I love completely, when I am sad I am really sad, when I am angry I am livid, when I feel guilt and fear I am paralysed by those emotions. And then there is my old companion, which I call ‘the void’ – an overwhelming sense of emptiness and loneliness that feels larger than life.
In my case it was the intensity of those deep emotions that drove me to ‘cut’. I would lock myself away in my room and dig as deep as I could until the stinging sensation would hurt so bad that I couldn’t feel the emotional pain anymore. There were times I felt like I wanted to physically cut the deep, emotional pain out of my own body. Like any addict [and I was most definitely addicted to this self-destructive, vicious cycle] I learnt to become creative. I remember being asked about the cross cut I had on my ankle at the time that I said was my was my attempt to tattoo myself.
Top Comments
Thank you for sharing this story. It feels a lot like I'm hearing from myself, the way the highs and lows and intense emotions are described, one moment I can feel like there is literally nothing I can't do, and even as I feel that way I can sense an overwhelming melancholy seeping in. The only difference is I didn't feel quite the same relief feeling from cutting, which I did when I was 18 mostly. I can honestly say I cut mainly to feel like my sadness and agitation were justified, and to hope that perhaps someone might notice a glimpse of something wrong and talk to me and help me. When I look back I feel conflicted about whether it was self indulgent, and yet trying to come to terms with how sad I really used to feel.
I am literally covered in scars now as an adult, I am a nurse and my job doesn't let me wear long sleeves or bracelets. I think every single day I've nursed a patient has asked me about my arm and I've told them I broke it, or that I fell through some glass.
Oh I'm ranting, but it was so good to read this story because I've never heard one like mine. I'm not, and never was gothic or emo or bullied or anything like that. I found commitment and acceptance therapy (ACT) to be what helped me. I think it is the most remarkable and truthful therapy out there.
I am truly grateful to Mamamia for posting my story, as I am to Josie's Juice for originaly running it. As the author of this piece and as someone who has bared my soul to tell my story, I would like to clear the record;- This is NOT a "new epidemic" nor is it "the new eating disorder". It wasn't written "to brag about", it was written to encourage people like myself, who have hidden my self-destructive patterning behind the mask I wear for society, for most of my life, [over 25 years now], to reach out for help. No one should ever suffer in silence and we all deserve to know that there is help available to us. People who self-harm or have self-destructive behaviour are not alone, there are many of us who function some-what normally in society, however we do suffer alone until we are able to reach out for help. It was as raw and painful writing this as it was experiencing it. It is indeed a weight I carry around with me, however I have learnt to deal with it over time with a great deal of self-work, under the guidance of a clinical psychologist. The message is this, there is help available and you can learn to deal with these overwhelming emotions and no one is alone...ever.