I started cutting myself when I was fourteen. I didn't realise at the time what it meant and why I had to do it, all I knew was that it was the only thing that would make me feel better.
At A Glance Author anonymous Contact [email protected] When N/A At first it was an infrequent and unplanned thing, I'd feel angry or upset and the only thing on my mind would be hurting myself until I got the chance to scratch up my arms or legs. The more I did this the more I became obsessed with the afterglow, that feeling of achievement and control that I could only get from making myself bleed. The more I got the more I wanted, so the late night sessions became something for me to look forward to, a goal to help me through the day.
I didn't tell anyone what I was doing, I knew it wasn't something everyone did, I wore long sleeved shirts and bought my razor blades in town so the local chemist didn't suspect. I stopped doing PE because I couldn't hide the scabs and plasters anymore, I was constantly worried that I'd be found out. There were a few close calls early on but I learnt how to hide it, to be careful not to bleed on my bedcovers and to hide the razors and antiseptic well.
Looking back on that time in my life it's so obvious I was a mess, I was withdrawn, lonely and desperate in a situation that I couldn't change. I was frustrated at school because I wasn't being challenged, had few friends and no social skills and a really big problem with my place in the world. So I kept on cutting.
I would lock the door to my bedroom then the excitement would start. Firstly I'd retrieve my equipment from it's various hiding places, sometimes I'd be so nervous and feel so sick I couldn't think straight and I'd have to sit on my bed and calm myself down for a couple of minutes before I started. Once I could see the razor blade everything became pretty much automatic. Roll up my sleeves or pull up my skirt and press in the blade until it hurt so much that everything blurred and nothing mattered. Watching my blood bubble up and out of me I'd feel content for a while. Sometimes I might play with the new cuts and encourage them to bleed and try to delay the comedown I knew wouldn't be too long. Afterwards I'd carefully clean myself up and pack away my stuff still smiling and satisfied.
During the day it's all I could think about. If things weren't going my way or if I felt down I'd end up in the toilets at school just playing with the scabs. I'd pick at my arms until they bled, I suppose it made me feel special knowing I had a secret that no one knew about. It also isolated me and I felt more distanced from the rest of the world. I kind of liked that too in a teenage way.
At sixteen I went to college to do my A Levels and gradually fell in with a crowd I could identify with and found myself in a way. With the advent of boys and the discovery that they wanted anything to do with me I became less self-conscious about the scars on my body and began to accept them as part of me. Eventually my attitude turned from being ashamed and feeling at odds with myself to appreciating the fact that this thing that I loved and hated was not only mine and at the same time was something that made me me.
I think my reasons for cutting evolved at this point, it became less about frustration and more spiritual I guess, I don't like to use that word but it's the easiest way to explain. I realised that the years of cutting had given me more than I could have imagined, a new perception of my body and my mind and, not least, the will to overcome pain. It seemed a natural progression to push these boundaries so I moved into body modification, and generally had a go at anything I thought would test my limits.
Nowadays I don't need the quick fix of a cut so much and I plan out my sessions, I like planning out the patterns and imagining the designs I'm going to put on my skin, and try to take the most out of each experience. I'm trying to take my time between cuttings, I don't want to be dependent on it and I feel the self-control of independence outweighs the control of the cutting itself. Sometimes it's difficult making myself wait especially when I'm down but I am getting stronger all the time and I love it.
I suppose the point I wanted to make with this piece is up to you. I think it's important to question why I do things and to understand myself a little better every day. If nothing else this has done that for me.