tell your story.

It's been almost 2 years since I first cut myself. I initially started because I hated myself, but as it turns out I've been struggling with clinical depression for nearly 10 years. When I was four years old, my grandmother (whom I was very close to) passed away, and my parents have since payed very little attention to me.
I've cut myself with razors, broken hairclips, pencil sharpeners, glass shards, nails, scissors, etc. I've also burned myself quite badly. I would hurt myself multiple times every day, on my arms, wrists, stomach, and legs. I can't even count how many times I've considered killing myself, and I hate myself for that. I hate myself for being that selfish. I love my family, my friends, my boyfriend.. My life is just as much theirs as it is mine, and I wish I'd never tried to take it away.
Clearly I couldn't easily keep it a secret, and my parents found out. I've since seen multiple mental health professionals and am currently on medication. I now only hurt myself every month or so, and am glad to say that I'm recovering. My depression may never be gone, but I've accepted that and am finding ways to deal with it.

The hardest part of all of this, I think, is knowing just how few people will ever remotely understand what you're going through. People try so hard to relate to you, but you know in your heart that they just can't. Your story cannot be shared. Its like you wake up one day and realize that you're utterly and completely alone in the world..
Its a hard realization.

I've been bullied my whole life, and that's not exaggerating. I have literally been bullied my whole life. Ever since I started kindergarten. I still am to this day, and I'm in Year 11 now. I've been cutting for a year. I think I've cut my whole body except from my genitals and my face. I have 7 months until I can finish school and get away from the bullying. It does my head in. I've committed suicide about 7 times. One, I attacked my wrists. Two, I tried drowning myself. Three, I tried choking myself. Four, I tried suffocating myself. Five, I tried hanging myself. Six, I burnt my body. Seven, I stayed out in the freezing weather and caught pneumonia, all my doing. So yeah, I see a councillor in school atleast twice a week, I have a councillor in the hospital and I see him atleast 4 times a week. I selfharm every single day. It's an addiction for me and I can't stop. One day it's going to kill me. I feel sick and twisted because I take pleasure whenever I selfharm. I pour nail polish remover on fresh cuts so it hurts more. I'll bathe in scalding hot water and I have scars everywhere. I'm proud of my scars because it shows that I went through a weak patch but I got back up and got strong again and these scars make me who I am today.

I don't remember why I started but it was almost 3 years ago, nearer 2 and a half? i dont remember exactly but it was around February or March 2010. (I had done it once or twice before that though.) I was just feeling the general sadness that everyone feels and for some reason I did it. It wasnt really a regular thing at first but eventually it was. Around that time I only had once that I thought "shit, I've went too deep". Other than that once though it was never really deep to leave a long-lasting scar.

Then I stopped for a while, it wasnt even a "Ok I'm going to stop" thing which I'd tried before, it just happened. Didn't last forever though and I started reguarly again. Went off and on for a while, would go ages and do it once, that kind of thing. Then a couple months ago I done it alot and basically wanted to kill myself. There wasn't even a reason I just had a total breakdown in the middle of the night and it was horrible I can't really describe it. They happened a couple times. I cut deep but it turned out to be nothing serious (once you clean it all up you realise how much you over-reacted lol.) Haven't cut since and I'm just trying to completely ignore it all for now.

One friend knows about it because she got into it reallyyyy badly which was why I ended up starting the few months back, talking about it with her and trying to help her triggered me. She's okay now aswell though, I think. There's another that might know but Im not sure. That's basically it though for irl.

Its been about three/four years since i started cutting. I started it in a really rough patch of my life. My parents spilt up when i was about nine, dad was very abusive towards mum and still isnt a very nice person (needless to say i dont have much to do with him now). I had to grow up quickly and help mum bring my sisters up as she was seriously ill with depression.. i used to have to force feed my mother and she dropped for 12 stone to seven stone very rapidly. Then high school hit, i've always had problems with friends.. i find girls far too bitchy and cannot cope with getting close to anyone anymore. So i was bullied all the way through high school, i used to come home and cut myself as it was the only thing that made me feel better in life. They got worse and worse until the bullying was physically agressive and horrible, i used to run away and cryand cut in the toilets. i was never good enough When i left high school and moved to sixth form i was suffering with depression and my self esteem was at rock bottom. Thats when my eating really became an issue, i used to make myself sick and refuse to eat.. or binge after a long day.

After 3 psychologists, 1 psychiatrist and 2 school counsellors i have given up with them all... they just dont help me.

Nearly a year ago, last new year i went to a party and was raped by my so called friend. Thats when my relationships with guys went bizzare... i'd go and have sex with anyone to regain control, i was so so bad, i honestly havent felt worse. I overdosed and spent the night in hospital.. blah blah blah.. you all probably know the story. Cutting got worse and worse and my antidepressents stopped working, so i gave up on them, which was a bad idea. I was so self destructive, got close to a guy and had my heart broken.. im so paranoid now.

But yeah this is depressing me.. at the moment i am not cutting so much, i dont feel the need to do it so much, mum has had a baby so thats brought a little joy into my life and now im trying to get onto the road of recovery. I still have depression and am struggling to cope, but im not as bad as i was so its okay

First, I suppose I should give a bit of background information... About five years ago, when I was eleven, I started having these 'bad days'. At first I thought it was normal, but as I began to discuss these feelings with others, I started thinking it might be just a little different. Nowadays, they're 'bad weeks' and it's like my mind turns on itself. It seems like nothing makes sense and reality is fake. I lose myself in this fog of hate and frenzied psychological pain. It's hard to describe, but I just can't stand it and have had suicidal thoughts since they started.

I had never thought of cutting or self-injury as an option. It was simply ridiculous to me. However, when I went through a part of my life where every day I hated my own existence and then I had a 'bad week' on top of it, I just sort of...snapped.

This part is a bit gruesome, but then again, so is the whole of self-injury... See, originally I didn't intend to release my emotions through self-harm, but rather, through a form of art... I had my sketchbook out and was staring at the blank page. I was trying to think it all through, just like I normally do, but it was just too painful. On the page in front of me, I wrote 'don't think'. So, I didn't. I looked up and saw the scissors and knew I had found a release. Soon, the rest of my sketchbook was full of bloody finger-paintings depicting the horrible mess I'd let myself become. All was well until my dad found my artwork.

I was taken to the counselor the next day and have seen a few since. There have been ups and downs, but I fear the steady increase in my self-harm habits. I can last for a month at the most without cutting, but last night and the night before I...well, I'm having trouble hiding the cuts now. I think they're healing well, but I hate hiding again. I hate that sick feeling I get when I think anyone has seen...I just hate myself for what I've done to my family and friends. I hate feeling hopeless and useless and pathetic, and I hate myself for feeling like that. I really just wish I could be done with it all.

Well, it basically started at the end of 7th grade. I guess I was always kinda different. I remember in 2nd grade I was the girl who played alone on the playground. Ever since then, I've had lots of temporary friends I wasn't very close to. In 6th grade I met this girl, who's been my best (and only somewhat real) friend.
When she started hanging out with other girls, I felt really alone, again. I'm not really one of those clingy girls, it's just that she was my only friend at the time. My mom and I weren't getting along at the time. We were fighting all the time, mostly about my grades.
By then, I wasn't really impressed by life. I wasn't ever really that happy. The only real things I loved about life where music and books. I think it was around that time (7th grade) I got into metal. It was a nice escape, but it just wasn't enough.
Then I read a book about cutting. (I think it was called blade silver). After that, the idea planted in my mind. The idea of escape....
Anyways, the first time I cut was at my aunt's house.(It was summer vacation) I was feeling really suicidal. I used a razor and it hurt like hell. I told myself it was a one time thing, but it escalated. Soon I got a hold of one of her knifes, then I started breaking apart my razors to get the blades.
I've been hiding it for half a year now, but my parents found out. After confronting me, they just began to ignore it. The only thing I've admitted to by best friend is that I 'used to' burn myself a little with a hot glue gun. Luckily, no one's sent me to a physiatrist. I've been trying to stop, but I don't really have a reason to. I've thought about killing myself, but I'm not brave enough. It's not like anyone around here cares. I haven't cut in a while though, so I guess that's good.

I was 12 when my sister died. She wasn't blood, but she should have been. She was the only one I had. I was bullied shit loads in Primary, and was terrified of going into High. I met Maryleanne one day at a drugstore getting cold tablets. Her order was large, but I told her to go in front. Back then I had an undiagnosed case of Anxiety and I shook every second. When she walked out she asked me what I was on. And thats how it started.

She overdosed two days before her birthday. In the pool with me, she drowned, and I drowned with her. I was resuscitated, but her body was too weak from all the E's she had popped and lines she snorted over the years. I celebrated her birthday in hospital with a two time suicide count under my belt.

Since then I have been to hospital over 20 times. Nameless things, suicide attempts, stomach pumps, blood tests, lacerations, burns, overdosing. I am 17 and I have a 16 suicide count since Mary died about five years ago.

I have been cutting since I was 12. This one time my mum was moving my bed for me and she found six bladed under my mattress, she took them and threw them out, didn't say a word. They don't care at all, all they want is drugs.

I've been to rehabs and clinics and mental institutions before. I'm labelled a risk to society because of my disorders

• Anxiety
• Depression tier 3
• Suicidal Tendancies
• Psychosis
• Bulimic
• Bipolar
• Manic Disorderly

Psychologists and doctors and nurses and everyone have told me that Maryleanne would want me to be happy. I tell them the only way I'm happy, is when I'm with her. And the only way I'm with her, is if i'm dead~

Sorry this is so long! It's the first time I've tried to organize my thoughts like this (second if you count the one I accidentally deleted before I could post it). If anyone actually reads this feel free to skim through it. I'm pretty sure I accidentally got way off topic a few times.

How long: I've been cutting myself for almost 3 years now.

Why: to punish myself when I can't protect my little sister or
disappoint my parents/my teachers/myself
to control how/when I am hurt
to feel something
pressure to meet crazy standards/ expectations

How I am today:
I started to improve after one time when I thought I had accidentally cut too deep. It turned out that it wasn't too deep but was just bleeding a lot. In any case, It really scared me and I started really trying to stop. I made progress, then then one of my friends found out I cut when she saw me changing in the locker room at school and told everyone she knew, who told everyone they knew, etc. People stopped hanging out with me and started being generally mean. I hadn't been super popular before but I had friends at school. I didn't do things stereotypical of people who cut like wearing all black or even acting depressed/sad around others or cut on my wrists or anywhere visible when I'm in more than my underwear or a swim suit (not saying those stereotypes are true, just that nobody would have guessed if I had just paid closer attention in the locker room). People called me emo and "so stupid [I] couldn't even kill myself right." I got an email that said something like, "You are a waste of space and should just kill yourself already." All I could do was delete it. My parents still don't even know I cut/otherwise hurt myself so I obviously couldn't just go tell someone. Also, telling someone wouldn't help. You might be wondering how this ties in to "how I am today." After that email, I lost all my progress towards being able to stop cutting and hurting myself. I'm back in my old habit of cutting almost every day. I did switch schools (I convinced my parents using other reasons) last month so we'll see how that goes. Hopefully nobody at this school will find out.

First time and in between:
The first time I remember cutting myself was after I came home to find my little sister with a split lip and bruises on her neck. My brother had fingernail marks on the back of his hands but they hadn't even broken the skin. Both were banned from using the school bus from that point on. He was in fifth grade and stronger than me already. My sister was in fourth grade and small for her age. When she walked past his seat to get off the school bus, he tried to choke her because he had wanted to get off before her. It took the bus driver and another fifth grader to get him off of her I would have been there to make her feel better as soon as she got off of the bus if I hadn't stayed after school to go to a club. I would have been there to stop him from hitting her in the face after they got off the bus because "she got him in trouble." I wasn't, so I quit all my after school activities starting the next day. Things like this happened a lot. I went to school with bruises from my brother all the time. When I had a black eye because he threw a tennis ball at my face from four feet away, one of my teachers took me to the school counselor's office because she thought my parents were abusing me. They asked me if I felt safe at home. I said no. They asked me if my parents hurt me. I said no. They asked where I got the bruises. I said my younger brother. They stopped caring because it wasn't my parents. Hitting wasn't the only thing my brother is good at. He used to make me cry by saying things like "I hate you," and, "You should kill yourself," and, "Go die in a pit," and, "I wish you were never born," and you get the idea. I learned that crying made it worse so I stopped crying in front of anyone and eventually almost stopped crying altogether. Cutting helps when I want to cry. Of course my eyes water a little when my brother hits me or kicks me or threw something at me but I'm used to it now. I also figured out that I must have done something to make him hate me. When I say I'm scared of him people think I'm joking or overreacting. Nobody will listen. He does stuff in front of other people and nobody cares because he's my younger brother. They figure I can defend myself. I can't. I'm scared to try because he'll just hit me again but harder (or kick me or throw something at me or hit me with something hard). If my dad put me in a headlock and tried to hit my head on a wall, people would be calling CPS left and right. Because it's my brother it's okay, even though he's twice as strong as me (or more). My parents think I'm overreacting or exaggerating when I tell them what he does. I don't bother telling them anymore. They make me stay home with him and my sister when they go out. If anything happens they blame me. My brother is a great liar and tells them I hit him first or something. He'll go as far as hitting himself to make a bruise. As I said, I guess I must have done something to provoke him so it's not that bad. I just hate apologizing to him for something I didn't do. Also, the whole thing with my "friend" was because she thought I was doing it for attention. I don't know how she got that idea because I obviously tried really hard to hide it but she figures that since my life isn't as bad as other people's I have no right to complain. I'm sure part of it was that I didn't tell her anything about what was going on (because it wasn't any of her business) but maybe she's right. After all, people have gotten through a lot more without cutting. My family has plenty to eat, an okay house with just a few things to fix up in a mostly okay neighborhood (just two drug dealers on our street with no police raids yet and one registered sex offender who apparently had "non consensual sexual relations with multiple minors" or something a few streets away and I've never met them..... really nice compared to my "friend's" neighborhood), I've never really been abused just beaten up by my brother, and my family does have some good days. We actually have had a lot more good days lately (good days means no violence and just a few - if any - insults) but the more good days we have the worse the bad days are. That just makes me feel guilty and want to cut again. There's more reasons but this is the last one I'll put because this is getting really long and some parts are probably way off topic: I feel like I have to be the perfect child and help out with the other two as well. My brother has depression, anger issues (obviously), Asperger's Syndrome (a real diagnosis, not just a decision of "I think I want Asperger's now because it's popular"), and pretty much just does what he wants and ignores consequences. He's also decided love and friendship don't exist and says the only feelings he has are anger and hunger. My sister is on the verge of having an eating disorder - she thinks she's fat but she's underweight, she would barely eat if we didn't watch her at meals and she would throw up if someone wasn't standing outside the door listening (which sounds gross but it keeps her from throwing up because if she does she loses all computer, TV, and phone privileges) - wants attention in any form wherever she can find it (she admitted that she only "cut" or I guess lightly scratched for attention and she wants to date any boy who compliments her), has tried running away from home, has a learning disorder, and is having the typical adopted-kid-wants-to-know-biological-parents-and-why-they-gave-her-up even though they are in Ukraine and her dad isn't actually known and her mom mostly bought alcohol instead of food - which led to my sister being put in a hospital because of malnutrition where her mom left her for six months - and abused her and her half sister who is still in Ukraine until my sister was two and her half-sister was about five. Her biological mom may have had other kids my sister doesn't even know about and who can blame her for wanting to get to know her half sister better? Still, it's led to her telling our mom that she would rather live with her biological mom even if it was worse there. I haven't been much better than them in my head - except the Asperger's, anger issues, learning disorder, and adoption thing (because I'm not adopted) - but I'm a lot better at hiding it. The point of that is that if my parents found out I cut they would be super disappointed. Also, this makes me cut more because of the pressure to both do well (straight As, happy, etc.) and help my siblings figure out their problems at the same time. For some reason, when I cut that feeling of being overwhelmed goes away. I don't know if my parents would care. They sure don't care about my brother's behavior - punishments never stick and they almost always believe him, even if I have bruises, a split lip, a bloody nose, etc. Even when they believe me they think I'm overreacting so what would they think if they knew I started cutting because of it? That I'm overreacting. I swear they're in denial or something! They would just be disappointed and broadcast that disappointment to the world. Worse than that is that they'll overreact trying to impress people with how well they handled it. I know they'd be disappointed because they think I'm the "good child" who doesn't have problems. Knowing I'm doing something that would disappoint my parents just makes me cut more. It's like I'm stuck in a never ending loop of this: I cut and realize it would disappoint my parents, so I cut more, then think about how it would disappoint my parents, so I cut more, etc. The same goes for any other reason on here: I lose a friend so I cut more so I lose more friends. I cut then feel guilty so I cut more. I think the only reason that isn't a loop is my brother's anger issues/violence. He hurts me/my sister, I cut, he hurts me/my sister, I cut, he doesn't hurt me/my sister, I don't cut.

I just realized that was super long. Sorry! I didn't mean to write so much but I kept thinking of more and before I knew it the post was REALLY long! Also, I'm sorry for any mistakes I might have made.

I started cutting because my family didn't belive I was suicidal. The scars are like my proof that I didn't lie, but I want to stop now. I have even enough proof for myself even if it's not enough for them. I can't stop now, I'm addicted after a month.

I started cutting 3 weeks ago. Another saturday night where I blew off my friends because I didnt want to do anything. I felt like crap and didnt want to live anymore so i grabbed the nearest razor and went to the bathroom and tore open my upper wrist, it felt great and i was at ease after that. The reasoning behind it is very complex and id rather not get into it because im currently in a good mood. But anyway ive been cutting every few days now and its been getting hard to hide because i have PE and people keep asking why i have a huge bandage on my arm "i burnt myself really badly on the stove" is what i say everytime. And its been getting verywarm lately but it will get colder soon so people will stop asking why im wearing a jacket.

Anyway i dont feel the need to cut right now because i had a crazy hard workout and i would dosome reps and keep going and on the last one jd just scream out in pain. Both physical and emotional, it really helped especially becausetoday was really rough. But yeah, ill be depressed again tomorrow and things will go on like usual

For as long as I can remember, minor forms of self-harm have been my method of coping with stress, anger, and sadness. As I kid I used to pull my hair and scratch and bite myself when I was extremely upset, but I hadn't even known I was "self harming" at the time.

I became first aware of it when I scratched my arms up in 7th grade after a huge fight with my mom. I was angry and upset and I had no where else to vent my feeling except on myself.

The end of 9th grade was when I got more "serious." I found razors and cut myself for real with those. I don't even know if I had a single identifiable reason for that first cut... It just made me feel better, since I'd been feeling really depressed for a while. And it has carried on until now, my 11th year of high school. It will probably very well continue into my senior year. Even when I "quit" something always sends me back into a relapse eventually...

Do yourself a favor and NEVER pick up a razor to hurt yourself. It is so hard to break this habit, and you'll be left with scars that will never ever disappear.