Just a note: Some people may find the experiences below triggery, especially if they are struggling with self harm. Take care, and get support if you need it xxx Rachel

Scared To Life

I'm not from a bad family. I had my mom and my sister and they loved me, I was the only one close to me who didn't love me. I made friends easily and people looked at me and they saw a happy person. But I wasn't happy. I went through a phase where I would throw up after meals eating only breakfast to keep my stomach quiet during classes. Then I started to cut. It was soo much easier than throwing up, and less harmless. At least that was what I thought. I know that cutting myself is bad but I can't stop.

I first started cutting in the middle of eight grade I was fourteen. I wasn't so much cutting as scratching I started with a thumb tack and moved to safety pins. In my class at school there were other girls who cut themselves and I went ok it's no big deal, they even figured out that I cut too and made a joke out of it like it was some secret club. I lied and hated myself to the point where I would stare in the mirror and go this isn't me, it can't be! I felt out of place everywhere and cutting felt right. I would and still do tell my mom and my sister that they're just everyday scratches, cat scratches i say.

They don't know anything. I wear long sleeves and freeze whenever anyone looks at my arm. I want to tell but I can't. When grade 8 was over on the last day of school I stole a bottle of painkillers from my teacher. I stole them without even thinking about it, it still disgusts me that I feel no guilt. I hid them on my room and continued to collect pills. I still cut myself and I loved the way I bled. I started using scissors. Some days I would wake up feeling so ugly that all I could do was cry. I started to hate being around other people and choose to be secluded hanging out in my closet, where I felt safe and warm.

I would cut at night after I showered, it felt odd to me; cleaning myself then doing such a horrible dirty thing. One night I was sitting in my bed and with all of the painkillers that I had 'collected' lined up on my bed in front of me, I even went downstairs and got the glass of water. I was looking at the pills and seriously thinking about taking them. I did take some, I took 3 or 4 before i realised what was happening and stopped. I scared myself to life - funny way to put it, isn't it? I know that I still won't stop cutting, even now. I know that I couldn't. I won't keep the pills I will toss them. I want to live and learn.

I'm not a bad person, I just don't know what to do

Maya

As Always: If you're going through a tough time and some of this strikes a chord with you - take care of yourself and get some support. Check out the resources section for some ideas xxx Rachel