I've written a number of anonymous posts about self harm and have decided to post this with my real username because I'm sick of people attacking me for this without even knowing who they're talking to.
I also feel the urge to say that this post is very detailed. If you are not feeling well or emotionally stable enough to read this, please don't. Here's one more formal TRIGGER WARNING.
So, here I am. I'm almost 19, I have parents who tried very hard and were always there for me, experienced an awesome education so far, and I should be happy. I led a very privileged life back home and since moving out, I've found all the more reasons to be content and genuinely positive.
However, life isn't always easy. I won't go into why I started to cut now, this would make this take really long, I just wanted to address what relapsing feels like.
I hadn't cut myself in more than a year, almost 1.5 years to be precise. I was clean longer than I had my G@G profile.
And then, a month ago, I couldn't handle everything changing anymore. A few days before moving out, I was exercising on the floor in my room when I started to cry uncontrollably.
This doesn't happen often when I'm not in school/uni, so I told myself that I would allow myself to look at my blades if I found them within 20 seconds. I had completely forgotten where they were, so I set a timer and went through my closet. I found them before the timer went off.
I sat down again and looked at my blades. I unpacked them and then stuffed them back into their individual packaging. I put them away, went to the bathroom to take a shower, undressed - and figured that I couldn't do this anymore and that I had to cut myself now.
I went back to my room and grabbed a fresh blade, returned to the bathroom and started to think about which spot would be the most appropriate.
I figured that my breasts were the only spot I could cut since there wouldn't be unbearable consequences from that within the next couple of years (I won't have sex, nobody will see them). I took the blade to my breast, closed my eyes and dragged it across. It didn't hurt (it never did, wasn't ever about that for me either), but when I opened my eyes, I gasped in horror.
The wound that I had just produced was way too deep for my liking. I had not wanted to make it as big as it was and I was so shocked about it that I immediately sent a snap of my shocked face to my internet best friend, explaining the situation without showing what I had just done.
I knew it would take forever to start bleeding and that I would have to wait until it was finished bleeding before I could go and have my shower. I waited. I sat and wondered why I had done what I had done. I looked at my breasts and realised that they would have a horrible scar on them forever.
I know what this scar means to me, I can point to the trauma that led up to me no longer feeling like I had a way out of this mess, but it still shocks me that I did this to myself.
It's been a month, my scar is thick, red, throbbing and itchy. Nobody would think that I have these type of scars, but they're there and they're there to stay, too.
Hopefully my scar will fade over time and also flatten, it is not aesthetically pleasing at the moment and I will have a hard time explaining it too.
I'm not proud of this, but as stupid as this sounds, it's kept me occupied. Dealing with a wound like this takes up your time and energy. It's taken my mind off of things. Despite me being shocked about what I had done, the mental clarity I experienced in the few minutes after the cut were a much needed break from reality.
If you've read all of this, thank you. I know that non-cutters cannot understand what it feels like to cut, and this is the reason why I will remove all hurtful comments below this post. I know that cutting isn't a good thing to be doing - trust me, almost all cutters do. Shaming our actions are not going to make us feel better though.
I truly hope that you learned something from this and were able to take away that relapsing is so horrible on its own already that additional judgement from others feels overwhelming.