As I write this I thought I would start with this piece of text which some of you may have read. Some of you may not. I have copied this from Wolfbane's page and it was where I first read this warning many moons ago. When I first read it, I almost read with some kind of smugness thinking 'that will never happen to me' the person that wrote this text was spoke great truth though. I had no idea true it would be. If you would care to skip to the bottom of the text you will read about my fight with a very deadly addiction. One which is fast growing as more people face the growing pressures of society and battle mental health problems.
At A Glance Author vixstar Contact [email protected] IAM vixstar When N/A
"WARNING - Before you make that first cut remember: You will enjoy this. You will find the blood and pain release addictive. Even though you think you can make a few tiny cuts that aren't deep and will heal easily, they will get deeper. They will scar. They will take sometimes months to heal. And years for the scars to fade. If you think you can limit the cutting to one area of your body, think again; it will spread when you run out of skin.
"Be prepared to withdraw from others and live in a constant state of shame. Even if you are the most honest person ever to live, you will find yourself lying to the people you love. You will jerk back from your friends when they touch you as if their hands were dipped in poison. You will be terrified that they will feel something under the cloth of your shirt or because it just plain hurts so much to be touched. Be prepared to get so out of control you fear your next cut because you don't know how bad it will be. Just wait for 10 cuts to turn into 100.
"Be prepared for your entire life to revolve around thinking about cutting, cutting and covering up cutting. And just wait till that first time you cut "too deep." And you freak out because the blood won't stop, and you are gaping, and you feel yourself shaking all over. You are having a panic attack and you are terrified but you can't tell anyone. So you sit there alone, praying it will be ok swearing you'll never let it go this far again. But you will, and further.
"Don't worry, you will learn how to take care of your cuts so that you can go deeper and deeper and avoid the ER. And the better you get at treating your cuts, the deeper they get. You will lie to yourself and justify it when you find yourself spending 20, 30 or 50 dollars every time you go the pharmacy. You will feel the flutter of your heartbeat every time you go to the counter to ring up your order. Butterfly strips, 3 or four different kinds of dressings, Betadine, antibiotic cream, medical tape, scar reducers. You will tap your foot impatiently, hoping the line will just move and no one will stare at you or wonder why you need all these things. And at the same time, secretly hope someone will notice; someone who is standing in line with an armful of the same supplies; someone who understands but of course that never happens.
"Medical supplies won't be the only thing you spend all your money on. Be prepared to buy a new wardrobe; long-sleeve shirts in summer colours, bracelets, wristbands , boots, gloves, the list goes on and on. You will start looking at everyone in a different way, scanning their bodies for any signs of SI just hoping that you might meet someone like you so you don't feel so terribly alone. You won't even think about it as your eyes scan their wrists arms, hoping, just hoping, they will be like you. But they are not. You will see their clean arms and feel terribly ashamed and alone. You will start doing a lot of things alone.
"You will always have to wash your laundry in private so know one sees the blood stains on your clothes and towels. You will always be cleaning up the blood, scrubbing your bathroom floor, wiping the blood off your keyboard. You won't be able to make it through a day without cutting.
"Next thing you know, you are in a public bathroom somewhere breaking open a scab with a sewing needle that you keep in your wallet for emergencies. When you get really desperate anything will be a cutting tool; scissors, a car key, a needle, a paperclip, even a pen. Doesn't matter what it is if you need to cut badly enough, you will find something.
"Say goodbye to things you took for granted. Like wearing shorts or sandals, pedicures, sleeveless tops. A normal summer day at the beach or in a swimming pool will become a far off memory for you. Get ready to itch. Because you will itch and itch, "so much you will look like you have fleas or a skin disease." You will become an expert on your body as you destroy it carefully. You will dream about cutting, you will dream about being exposed. It will haunt you day and night and take over your life. You will wish you never made that first cut because while you absolutely HATE cutting at the same time you love it and can not live with out it..."
- Anonymous
I have reached a point in my life where like many others I am in contact with I desperately wish I could stop cutting. Unfortunately it's not quite as easy as throwing all the blades out and stopping at the click of your fingers. It's especially hard when you suffer from depression and the medicine still doesn't quite keep you as happy or as sane as you once were. I have reached the point where I desperately want to stop as like the text above says I do now wish I had never made that first cut because from there, there is no going back.
I started hurting myself when I was a teenager. Whenever I felt low or upset or tearful I would bite myself or punch walls and every so often would stick needles into myself or scratch myself with scissors. I needed the pain to remind me I was human and to calm me down. There are other reasons too but they are hard to word. It was only when I got into my late teens and was 'diagnosed' as depressed that one night in the bathroom in my 'fog' I took the razor and broke it part and fished out the sharp bits and cut my leg. The sharp pain made me draw breath come back to reality with a bump and I felt better.
Then as I got more ill I would cut more, not just one cut but two or three maybe more. Then I one day I was very ill and stupidly cut at my arms and the vast amount of blood that came out excited me but soon I was regretting what I did. Like the author of the text above I was soon having to hunt for suitable long sleeved tops to wear for work and vowed to not to touch my arms again. That vow lasted 2 days and I cut worse than before. Then I discovered the godsend of wrist bands. But as I discovered wristbands I unfortunately discovered sharper razors. I love and hate them. I love that they are more satisfying but hate the fact that you really can do so much more damage.
A few months down the line I thought I wasn't doing too badly. I was cutting about once a week and had been trying to keep to cutting my legs to minimize the mess on my arms. Then due to upsets in my life I crashed and burned. I took an overdose and was clever enough to get my flat mate to call me an ambulance so thus I'm still here today thankfully but the period just after was torture. I was only a few steps from being committed to the psych ward. I was allowed home on the condition my friend confiscated my razors and controlled my meds. It sounds pathetic but while I was signed off work I would sit for hours in the room on my own and all I could dream about was cutting. The pain of not cutting was unbearable. I had no idea I was so hooked on something like this. The truth in simple was that I was addicted to cutting and I found this very hard to take in. I even found myself locked out of the kitchen incase I took knives. I discovered that trying to break apart certain razors doesn't work and only cuts your fingers and ends up getting you shouted at by your flat mate.
Finally I stopped dreaming of getting my next 'fix' but then with great delight I was in Edinburgh one day and passed Boots. I told my friend I was going in to get 'something' and with great excitement I bought some dressings and yes......razors.....the sharp ones. At first with when I got home with my new toy I was very controlled but then I lost it and I actually lost control while I was cutting. I was only re-aware of myself when I looked down and saw lots of blood and that's when I saw the mess on my arm and couldn't believe I was capable of that. That was when I got my fright. 'And just wait till that first time you cut "too deep." And you freak out because the blood won't stop, and you are gaping, and you feel yourself shaking all over' -yes that's how felt right then.
After that I gave the blades back to my flat mate who did rightly shout at me and stopped cutting for a while and I thought my addiction was cured.
Oh if only it were that easy. Several packets of steri-strips later I've found my self in the position now where if I don't have a little 'stress-relieving' cut and I leave it until I'm really bad and really low I'll do bad damage. The scars on my legs are witness to the fact that a few times I've cut so deep I've sliced in to fat and all sorts and that terrifies me. Its terrifying me so much that I'm scared if I don't stop I might cut so bad I'll bleed to death or do bad damage.
I worry so much about friends who are at the start of the cycle. This is an addiction I never ever thought I'd have to fight as I simply thought this wasn't something I could become addicted too. If only I treated that text with a little more caution, it may not have stopped me but I may not be in such a bad position now. Feeling alone and tortured and searching out the other poor souls who have the tell-tale scars too that they either have battled or are battling this addiction.