It started off small, as it nearly always does. Just a small cut, though I still have the scar from the first time I attacked my body with a scissor. I was 9 years old. 10, nearly 11 years ago.
I was so ashamed. I tried to stop, over and over again. At school cutters were ridiculed; “attention seekers, disgusting, hahaha I’m gonna slash my wrist, they deserve to die, I hate them”. I hated myself. I hid my cuts under sweatbands, bracelets, girl boxer shorts. I would cut just a little every time, spread throughout my body so as to not raise suspicion. One cut on my foot, two on my thigh, one on my arm. Who would’ve known?
I was confronted once. When I had too many scars on my left arm and I stopped wearing my sweatband. My mother asked me what they were, if I had done it myself? Noo, me? No, of course not. She believed me. I was 14 years old.
I tried to quit so many times, and I managed it too. For a few weeks, or maybe a few months. The longest I went was 3 years. But it always came back. Always.
Summer 2011. I was 17 and a half. This is when it started to go downhill. This is when it started to get serious. This is when I didn’t give a damn, when I gave myself over to self harm. Big cuts that required stitches. I never got them. I didn’t want questions, I was too ashamed to let anyone see to and treat my cuts. I didn’t want the judgement I was so sure would come. I was alone in my private hell. So alone.
And now? Now I’m 19, nearly 20 years old. My cuts are no longer small scratches. I’ve cut to the bone, I’ve hit nerves and tendons, I have nerve damage. Stitches, both internal and external. And veins. I’ve hit veins, big ones. Where the blood squirts out of your arm.
I’ve lost too much blood. My iron levels are so low that I can barely walk without nearly fainting. I never thought that it would get to this point. Where I would need transfusions to make up for the blood that I have lost. By my own hand.
So please. Don’t be as stupid as I was. Get help, the sooner the better. Don’t let it get as serious, as far as I have. It’s dangerous, it’s lonely, it’s tough and it’s not worth it. You are much better than this.
I’m so sorry for your experience, but I admire you for sharing it and showing other people.