History 3

  Long time no talk.  Sorry I haven’t written anything in a while.  Life happened and this semester has wrapped up finally.  It feels great to be done with another semester and I’m a little closer to what I’ve been trying to achieve for so long.  Hooray for education!  Expensive, expensive education! 

  Anyway, I thought I’d write some more about my history with self-harm again.  I haven’t been sure about what part to go into though.  Let’s see…  I remember at one point in Junior High, I was supplying surgical blades to all my friends that self-harmed.  I can’t remember what happened but our locker got searched one day and they found the surgical blades in there.  I was absolutely mortified of getting caught with my big secret I was trying to keep from all the adults.  I sat in the principal’s office and told a bullshit story that I had no idea where the blades were from and that I thought a friend of a friend was giving them to my locker partner.  I felt awful that my friends had to lie for me too but they did.  The principal believed us and we had no more problems.  Eventually I started going to these counseling groups with my friends and others to help with stress and such.  I don’t remember if we ever talked about self-harm though.  I doubt it.  I really didn’t want people to know what I was doing because of how sacred it became to me.

  High school started and some of my friends went to a different high school than I did since I was right in the middle of two high schools and decided to go to the nicer one.  My self-harm sort of slowed down and there were several months at a time where I didn’t self-harm at all.  My senior year of high school got kind of bad, though.  I had a friend who also self-harmed and we would go in the bathroom before class and look at the cuts we had made the night before.  I also became obsessed with my weight and counted my calories like crazy.  No more than 400 calories some days, and if I got above that I would feel like I failed.  It was so wonderful to have control of something even though my weight always stayed in the same damn spot.  I became obsessed with looking at ‘thinspo’ and drooling over how skinny the Victoria’s Secret models were.  There was a boy that I started dating too but I’m not going to go into that now.  I only self-harmed a few times while I was with him.

  During my junior year in high school, I met a guy in my body-conditioning class.  We had a lot in common and I loved how hilarious he was.  We dated for almost 5 years--4 years and 360-ish days to be exact.  My cutting/self-harm got its absolute worse during this relationship.  I think it’s because I felt like I was stuck in a relationship that defined me and took away my true identity.  I didn’t want to leave him and instead looked at myself as the cause for any problems in the relationship.   He was the one with addictions and I enabled him which caused me to lose myself completely.  I identified myself as the perfect girlfriend who was only there to take care of him.  It didn’t matter what I felt at any point in time.  I became so focused on being perfect for him that I grew to hate myself more and more.   I remember the exact moment when my cutting started and grew into a bigger problem than I ever could’ve imagined.  During the week sometime, I was staying the night at his house and I think we got into a discussion about the things he didn’t like about me physically.  I had been drinking wine that night too and was a little more emotional than normal. He was busy watching tv or going to bed or something when I went and hid in his bathroom for a while.  I found my shaving razor that I was bringing over to shave with and made several cuts on the right side of my right calf, working my way up and down my leg and over the cuts.  I just didn’t care and wanted those damn feelings to get out of me.  Cutting with a shaving razor is one of the most painful ways of cutting.  The cuts are shallow and paper-cut like, meaning they burned more than the regular cutting I became familiar with.  Since such a large area on my leg had been cut up, it truly felt like it was on fire.  I bled all over the inside of my jeans but didn’t care and my boyfriend never noticed.  That’s one thing that I liked about cutting with a shaving razor—since the cuts are so shallow, they heal fast without leaving any scars, thus enabling me to get away with my little secret again.  After that night, I discovered that releasing the heaps of pain I had inside of me by cutting was something I wanted to chase after again.  I wanted more.  I wanted to go deeper.  I wanted to bleed more.  I wanted to keep pushing against that dangerous line that I swore I would never cross.

  From that point, my self-harming became a big blur.  I bought a box of disposable surgical blades online for dirt cheap and used them religiously.  It started with cuts on my arms about 3 times a week then eventually got to several times a day.  Every single day.  I got to the point where before my morning class, I would hide in the bathroom in a building that didn’t have too many students running around and would spend a good 45 minutes with my bad habit.  It became an addiction to me.  I needed more of it and was constantly chasing after that first huge rush when I cut up my leg with the shaving razor.  My goodness…

  Ok I was going to write more but I’m getting tired.  I will go into more detail about how bad I got and all the scary moments I had.  Thanks for reading.

Picture:

Who does stuff like this??? GAH!  Found on cuteoverload.com :)