Disclaimer: This Take has parts in it about self harm and can be triggering. Read with caution.
I used to tell myself that I wasn't a cutter because I only did it a handful of times. I didn't consider it a problem because it wasn't something that happened on a regular basis. I was actually proud of myself because despite thinking about it daily, I wasn't acting on it. I didn't want to label myself as a cutter or associate myself with cutting/cutters because in my mind, I wasn't anything like them. In other words, I had myself completely fooled.
I didn't have the best life growing up. I had some pretty shitty things happen to me. From being repeatedly touched inappropriately by a family member at age 7 to be being bullied nonstop from 4th to 8th grade. To say that I pretty much hated life by the time I was 12, is an understatement. My cutting started out as scratching. I did it once with broken glass. I remember feeling calm. One of my sisters saw what I was doing and freaked out. I made them promise not to tell and I promised not to do it again. And I kept the promise. But I thought about it. A lot. Fast forward to a few years later. The bullying had died down a bunch once I got to high school but the damage was already done. I had zero self esteem and zero confidence. I hated myself. By the time I was 17, suicidal thoughts were apart of my everyday thinking. I got my first job at Target stocking the shelves and working in the back room. We had an endless supply of box cutters back there. I accidentally took one home one night. I'm sure you know what happens next. Started out as just scratching the surface and progressed from there. The thing I remember most about doing it back then was how quiet and calm my normally racing mind would be. I wasn't doing it every day. Not even every week. But I started to become addicted to the calmness it brought. And when I felt that need for it start to build I forced myself to stop. I got rid of them and promised myself I wouldn't do it anymore. It was a struggle. The suicidal thoughts increased. But I got through it. And I went 11 years without cutting. That all ended about a week ago.
If there's one thing that I can't deal with, it's not being able to be in control of my feelings. I have a process for going through things: I deal, I bottle it up, I shelf it and I keep it moving. May not be very ideal for some, but it works for me. I recently got my heart crushed. Which isn't anything new. Except for this time, I actually genuinely love the guy. So the hurt was intense. But like I said, I have my process. Only it didn't work. No matter how hard I tried to bottle and shelf this, I failed. Control went out the window and I didn't know what to do. I felt like there was a hole in my chest. No matter how much I tried, I couldn't keep it together. So I cut. Why? Because cutting is something that I can control. I'm substituting pain that I have no control over for a familiar pain that I can control. Am I proud of it? No. I went an entire decade without cutting. I realize that this is a huge setback. But, it helps. And right now it's the only thing that does.
I felt compelled to share because there's so much that goes on in people's lives that we never even think about. Everyone is fighting a battle that we know nothing about. People show you what they want you to see. No one's perfect. I hate that I started cutting again. HATE IT. I hate that it hurts people that I love. But for me, this is how I have to deal with this for now.
I know this is a sensitive subject so I'll allow Anon posts. It took a lot for me to share this. If I feel like you're being negative, I'm going to ignore you.
Thanks for reading.
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