saturnine
February 18th, 2013, 09:28 PM
Alright, I saw that cutting and self harm had it's own very forum on this website. I've had my own personal experience and I am continuing to deal with these things through therapy. It's quite long, but I just need to type it out.
Last year during February I was in the sixth grade. I had a boyfriend at the time, and I never saw him outside of school, so my only option to show him affection was to hug/kiss him at school after the bell had rung. I remember one day a whole group had saw us kiss, and one kid told the entire grade, literally. Even the teachers overheard, and my teacher had a talk with me and told me to quit it because it was against school rules.
Regardless of these warnings I defied my teachers and got caught again, not once, but twice. At the third offense I had my mother called and I had my phone and iPod taken away. I was devastated because at that time, my texts and iPod held very secretive things about who I was. I cursed, defied teachers, talked about sex, and more. I remember crying because I was so afraid I was going to get into deep shit.
My mom and dad ended up sitting me down and grounding me for having said things in my texts and also defying my teachers. The conversation ended up going further- and my whole facade of "straight A's since kindergarten, beautiful, sweet" little girl fell, I never told my parents anything about my problems with myself or with boys, or about my boyfriends I had previously. I never trusted them. I was jealous of my friends who had that relationship with their parents that I never had. My life fell, along with my whole social life in school. I broke up with that boyfriend two weeks later, and I have not talked to him since.
During March, I met a boy on Tumblr who was 16 at the time. He was absolutely gorgeous. He lived in Manhattan, though, so I woke up at 4-5AM just to text him. We ended up having a long distance relationship despite our age difference. At that time I thought this was fine and I was in such self absorption with this relationship nothing else mattered.
At one point he told me that he had self harmed, and attempted suicide many times and had multiple hospital bracelets to prove it. He told me to never fall victim of depressions' hands- because it's a dark, winding road that leads to nothing.
The next night, I grabbed a knife. I think it was because of the way I had always felt about my appearance. Nose too big, gap between my teeth. I always managed to have bad hair days and I was made fun of for 3 years prior. I ripped and tore at my skin but never managed to make me bleed. I remember crying and saying over and over, "Make me bleed! Oh, please, make me bleed.." I hid the knife under my bed and went to sleep.
I did this for a long time until I researched and found out I could take razors out of my shavers. I immediately took them out and finally, I bled for the first time. It was a milestone for me at the time because all I did was scratch before. I told my long distance boyfriend and he was so upset, but he stood with me.
On Tumblr, my blog consisted of things I hated about myself and I only made my situation worse. I talked about my family negatively and sooner or later, my cousin showed my mom and my mom freaked out. My parents sat me down and asked me why I hated myself so much, and why I cut. I cried a lot, and they tried desperately to understand. I showed them my scars and my dad commented, "That's a lot, that's a lot.." as he backed away. I told them I wasn't normal. My life had fallen apart due to serious self esteem issues. My parents were extremely understanding at the end of the day and got me a therapist, his name was Frank.
I saw him once, and then I went home and my mom took away my razors and checked under my bed constantly for new ones.
I cut for the time that me and my boyfriend were together. After a month and a half of dating, he broke up with me, because I was too hard to handle and I was not letting him help me. At that point, I went suicidal. I hid a knife, 4 razors, a band aid, and a napkin underneath my bed after my first therapy session after the break up. And when I went back for them a couple days later, they had disappeared. My mom had took them. I remember crying and sobbing and asking- "Why, why me?" I frantically searched for a razor she may have missed. I ended up finding one lone razor. And I laughed manically and began cutting more than ever.
I went to one last session with Frank (it's April by now) and I cancelled the appointments thereafter. I lied to my parents about feeling better. I lied to everyone.
During the summer, I had starved myself for days and I began cutting my hips and thighs to ensure my parents did not find them. I stopped cutting there after a 2 months because I had a beach trip with my family in August. I couldn't let them find out! Not cutting made me go to the brink of insanity. It was so hard.
Once school started, the anxiety I felt about starting middle school overwhelmed me. I came home and I cried and cried and cried. I did not tell my parents about my cutting, just my anxiety and frustration in the level of maturity in my peers. I hated everyone, everything, and going to public places made me angry. I hated seeing the stupidity of life and the stupidity of socializing. My problems no longer lie in the self confidence of myself, it is in the anxiousness and the fact that I was so much more mature than everyone around me. I was a brand new species in a sea of the same fish. I never found anyone like me and keeping friends was tough because I always blew up on them in frustration.
My parents thought this was just middle school jitters when in reality I could have killed myself any second. This was in mid August.
During September I cut everywhere it seemed, arms, hips, thighs, stomach. I carved words like "mistake" and "fat" multiple times into my own flesh. I was growing more and more suicidal and more insane. I needed help, I was just afraid to ask. I was in fear of them taking everything away that could potentially kill me. I thought about overdosing, I learned how to tie a noose, I thought about jumping out in the street, I remember thinking about stabbing myself with led or cutting my vein vertically.
Soon, my teachers saw my cuts and I saw my guidance counselor and she was required by law to call my parents. She did, and they freaked out once again and sat me down. I cried for hours. Hours, and hours. I told them about the emptiness, the voices. I didn't know what was wrong with me anymore. Every moment of my thought was dedicated to committing suicide. I was bullied about cuts and my focus was failing. I looked in the mirror and I saw nothing. I looked into my eyes and there was no soul. I looked at my cuts and I saw no blood, so I cut more in an attempt to remind myself- "You're alive" and "You exist" but that only made me more depressed because I didn't want to be alive, or to exist. I truly couldn't take it. I'd post pictures on Instagram and Facebook spelling suicidal backwards and named playlists with the words "pleh em" backwards "help me". No one noticed.
My parents took me to my therapist immediately and he asked me, "Can you promise me you won't hurt yourself?" and I responded simply, "No."
He called in my parents and he had to, by law, to tell them to take me to a hospital. So that night, they did.
It's a long story, but I ended up being put in an adult psychiatric ward and I saw some things that were quite traumatic. I was trapped there for 2 days because I was put in a ward meant for adults, not minors. They couldn't release me by the law of the state of Arizona and moral of the story, I was transferred to another hospital where they evaluated me and recommended I sought "aggressive out-patient therapy" meaning group sessions and obviously seeing Frank.
I gave my razors to my parents and for a couple months they were so cautious of leaving me alone. I significantly improved and I still am to this day, but there are bouts of depression but I have not cut since October 3rd, 2012. I hope I never do again, but sometimes I have thoughts. Once a cutter, always a cutter.
I just wanted to share this story with you all because I have never written this out before. I have come a long way and I am continuing to progress. Have hope, because there are options for you to get help you guys. I am returning to wellness from pit bottom depression. I wish you all the best of luck in your journey towards happiness. It'll come. Live to see the day there will be a change.
Last year during February I was in the sixth grade. I had a boyfriend at the time, and I never saw him outside of school, so my only option to show him affection was to hug/kiss him at school after the bell had rung. I remember one day a whole group had saw us kiss, and one kid told the entire grade, literally. Even the teachers overheard, and my teacher had a talk with me and told me to quit it because it was against school rules.
Regardless of these warnings I defied my teachers and got caught again, not once, but twice. At the third offense I had my mother called and I had my phone and iPod taken away. I was devastated because at that time, my texts and iPod held very secretive things about who I was. I cursed, defied teachers, talked about sex, and more. I remember crying because I was so afraid I was going to get into deep shit.
My mom and dad ended up sitting me down and grounding me for having said things in my texts and also defying my teachers. The conversation ended up going further- and my whole facade of "straight A's since kindergarten, beautiful, sweet" little girl fell, I never told my parents anything about my problems with myself or with boys, or about my boyfriends I had previously. I never trusted them. I was jealous of my friends who had that relationship with their parents that I never had. My life fell, along with my whole social life in school. I broke up with that boyfriend two weeks later, and I have not talked to him since.
During March, I met a boy on Tumblr who was 16 at the time. He was absolutely gorgeous. He lived in Manhattan, though, so I woke up at 4-5AM just to text him. We ended up having a long distance relationship despite our age difference. At that time I thought this was fine and I was in such self absorption with this relationship nothing else mattered.
At one point he told me that he had self harmed, and attempted suicide many times and had multiple hospital bracelets to prove it. He told me to never fall victim of depressions' hands- because it's a dark, winding road that leads to nothing.
The next night, I grabbed a knife. I think it was because of the way I had always felt about my appearance. Nose too big, gap between my teeth. I always managed to have bad hair days and I was made fun of for 3 years prior. I ripped and tore at my skin but never managed to make me bleed. I remember crying and saying over and over, "Make me bleed! Oh, please, make me bleed.." I hid the knife under my bed and went to sleep.
I did this for a long time until I researched and found out I could take razors out of my shavers. I immediately took them out and finally, I bled for the first time. It was a milestone for me at the time because all I did was scratch before. I told my long distance boyfriend and he was so upset, but he stood with me.
On Tumblr, my blog consisted of things I hated about myself and I only made my situation worse. I talked about my family negatively and sooner or later, my cousin showed my mom and my mom freaked out. My parents sat me down and asked me why I hated myself so much, and why I cut. I cried a lot, and they tried desperately to understand. I showed them my scars and my dad commented, "That's a lot, that's a lot.." as he backed away. I told them I wasn't normal. My life had fallen apart due to serious self esteem issues. My parents were extremely understanding at the end of the day and got me a therapist, his name was Frank.
I saw him once, and then I went home and my mom took away my razors and checked under my bed constantly for new ones.
I cut for the time that me and my boyfriend were together. After a month and a half of dating, he broke up with me, because I was too hard to handle and I was not letting him help me. At that point, I went suicidal. I hid a knife, 4 razors, a band aid, and a napkin underneath my bed after my first therapy session after the break up. And when I went back for them a couple days later, they had disappeared. My mom had took them. I remember crying and sobbing and asking- "Why, why me?" I frantically searched for a razor she may have missed. I ended up finding one lone razor. And I laughed manically and began cutting more than ever.
I went to one last session with Frank (it's April by now) and I cancelled the appointments thereafter. I lied to my parents about feeling better. I lied to everyone.
During the summer, I had starved myself for days and I began cutting my hips and thighs to ensure my parents did not find them. I stopped cutting there after a 2 months because I had a beach trip with my family in August. I couldn't let them find out! Not cutting made me go to the brink of insanity. It was so hard.
Once school started, the anxiety I felt about starting middle school overwhelmed me. I came home and I cried and cried and cried. I did not tell my parents about my cutting, just my anxiety and frustration in the level of maturity in my peers. I hated everyone, everything, and going to public places made me angry. I hated seeing the stupidity of life and the stupidity of socializing. My problems no longer lie in the self confidence of myself, it is in the anxiousness and the fact that I was so much more mature than everyone around me. I was a brand new species in a sea of the same fish. I never found anyone like me and keeping friends was tough because I always blew up on them in frustration.
My parents thought this was just middle school jitters when in reality I could have killed myself any second. This was in mid August.
During September I cut everywhere it seemed, arms, hips, thighs, stomach. I carved words like "mistake" and "fat" multiple times into my own flesh. I was growing more and more suicidal and more insane. I needed help, I was just afraid to ask. I was in fear of them taking everything away that could potentially kill me. I thought about overdosing, I learned how to tie a noose, I thought about jumping out in the street, I remember thinking about stabbing myself with led or cutting my vein vertically.
Soon, my teachers saw my cuts and I saw my guidance counselor and she was required by law to call my parents. She did, and they freaked out once again and sat me down. I cried for hours. Hours, and hours. I told them about the emptiness, the voices. I didn't know what was wrong with me anymore. Every moment of my thought was dedicated to committing suicide. I was bullied about cuts and my focus was failing. I looked in the mirror and I saw nothing. I looked into my eyes and there was no soul. I looked at my cuts and I saw no blood, so I cut more in an attempt to remind myself- "You're alive" and "You exist" but that only made me more depressed because I didn't want to be alive, or to exist. I truly couldn't take it. I'd post pictures on Instagram and Facebook spelling suicidal backwards and named playlists with the words "pleh em" backwards "help me". No one noticed.
My parents took me to my therapist immediately and he asked me, "Can you promise me you won't hurt yourself?" and I responded simply, "No."
He called in my parents and he had to, by law, to tell them to take me to a hospital. So that night, they did.
It's a long story, but I ended up being put in an adult psychiatric ward and I saw some things that were quite traumatic. I was trapped there for 2 days because I was put in a ward meant for adults, not minors. They couldn't release me by the law of the state of Arizona and moral of the story, I was transferred to another hospital where they evaluated me and recommended I sought "aggressive out-patient therapy" meaning group sessions and obviously seeing Frank.
I gave my razors to my parents and for a couple months they were so cautious of leaving me alone. I significantly improved and I still am to this day, but there are bouts of depression but I have not cut since October 3rd, 2012. I hope I never do again, but sometimes I have thoughts. Once a cutter, always a cutter.
I just wanted to share this story with you all because I have never written this out before. I have come a long way and I am continuing to progress. Have hope, because there are options for you to get help you guys. I am returning to wellness from pit bottom depression. I wish you all the best of luck in your journey towards happiness. It'll come. Live to see the day there will be a change.