averyaddison
May 4th, 2013, 11:44 PM
Hi,
I've never been to a website like this but to take the next step in my recovery i feel like i need to reach out to others who have experienced similar things to me for reciprocal advice and support. My story may be triggering for some, so if you feel suseptable please stop reading now. I've been a self-harmer since I can remember. I used to starve myself and cut superficially, but last year a darker force took control of me. I was no longer afraid to cut deep. I idealized and romanticized suicide and when I cut I would aim to overflow the sink with blood. I was taken to the hospital by my boyfriend more than a few times. He and my roommate stopped letting me go to the washroom alone. I had razors hidden all over the house so that when the opportunity arose I could cut. I clearly remember my boyfriend and roommate holding me down as I grasped for a blade that had fallen out of my reach. I screamed at them, told them I hated them, and threatened them with anything I could. In the end they didnt know what to do and let me cut with the condition that I cut horizontally and that they would watch to make sure I didnt go too deep. Only once was I frightened for my life (cutters feel so in control of their blood loss). I had locked myself in the bathroom as my boyfriend yelled and banged on the door. I knew I had to be fast and that I had to make it a good one because security would surely be stepped up after this episode of disobedience. I grabbed a razor and dug in as deep as I could and pulled the razor vertically up the length of my forearm. My palms and lap instantly filled with blood and the knocking on the door began to echo and the room began to swim. I tried to reach for the lock but as I stood I slipped in the blood and passed out. when the blood reached the other side of the door my boyfriend kicked it open and took me to the hospital which surely saved my life. With the exception of a few very minor slips, I haven't cut in 6 months. The horrendous scars have ruined my body and although I dont cut anymore, the consequences of my actions will remind me everyday. I used to be jealous of girls with perfect hair or bodies, now im just jealous of anyone who can wear a t-shirt. I'm having trouble moving on with my life when I have such a constant reminder. I'm also looking for advice on how to tell your (new) partner about your history with cutting. Please feel free to tell me your story and provide advice. Thanks
-Avery
I've never been to a website like this but to take the next step in my recovery i feel like i need to reach out to others who have experienced similar things to me for reciprocal advice and support. My story may be triggering for some, so if you feel suseptable please stop reading now. I've been a self-harmer since I can remember. I used to starve myself and cut superficially, but last year a darker force took control of me. I was no longer afraid to cut deep. I idealized and romanticized suicide and when I cut I would aim to overflow the sink with blood. I was taken to the hospital by my boyfriend more than a few times. He and my roommate stopped letting me go to the washroom alone. I had razors hidden all over the house so that when the opportunity arose I could cut. I clearly remember my boyfriend and roommate holding me down as I grasped for a blade that had fallen out of my reach. I screamed at them, told them I hated them, and threatened them with anything I could. In the end they didnt know what to do and let me cut with the condition that I cut horizontally and that they would watch to make sure I didnt go too deep. Only once was I frightened for my life (cutters feel so in control of their blood loss). I had locked myself in the bathroom as my boyfriend yelled and banged on the door. I knew I had to be fast and that I had to make it a good one because security would surely be stepped up after this episode of disobedience. I grabbed a razor and dug in as deep as I could and pulled the razor vertically up the length of my forearm. My palms and lap instantly filled with blood and the knocking on the door began to echo and the room began to swim. I tried to reach for the lock but as I stood I slipped in the blood and passed out. when the blood reached the other side of the door my boyfriend kicked it open and took me to the hospital which surely saved my life. With the exception of a few very minor slips, I haven't cut in 6 months. The horrendous scars have ruined my body and although I dont cut anymore, the consequences of my actions will remind me everyday. I used to be jealous of girls with perfect hair or bodies, now im just jealous of anyone who can wear a t-shirt. I'm having trouble moving on with my life when I have such a constant reminder. I'm also looking for advice on how to tell your (new) partner about your history with cutting. Please feel free to tell me your story and provide advice. Thanks
-Avery