A Cutter's Story

I first cut myself because I wanted to see if I could do it. I thought that it would only be a one-time thing. I would do it and that would be it. I would do it and then be done with it. But when I made the first cut, I felt a rush of something that I still can't describe. When I first drew blood, I felt a euphoria wash over me. I felt as if all my problems went go away as the blood left my veins. I still thought that it would be a one-time thing. But a couple of days later I cut myself again, but I still didn't think that it would become something that I would do almost daily. But as a couple of days went by I kept on thinking about how I felt when I cut myself, so I did it again. Before I knew what was happening I was cutting myself almost every day. One time I told Scott, the youth minister down at the church I go to. A couple of weeks later he gave me a magazine to read that had an article about cutters. Later that night, while at home I read the article. I thought that I had a lot in common with cutters, even though at the time I didn't think that I had a problem with cutting. But as the summer went by I found myself cutting myself more and more.

When I first started cutting myself I only cut my wrists a little once or twice. But as the cutting became more frequent, just one cut on the wrist wasn't good enough for me. I started cutting myself on the fronts and backs of my lower arms. Plus the gradually became deeper. I wasn't satisfied until I saw the blood flow down my arm. I also cut myself a couple times on my legs. But I mostly cut myself on the arms.

I first realized that I might have a problem the night before I started my sophomore year of college. I went into the woods to go meditate and instead of meditating I cut myself. The next day I wrote Scott a letter and all it said was that I was a cutter. The next day I when I went to school I realized that in fact I DID have a problem. I went to my first class and I couldn't concentrate. All I could think about was going home and cutting myself. After the class I went into the bathroom and cut myself some, since I brought my Swiss Army knife with me, which is what I use to cut myself. After my next class I went home and cut myself some more. Later on that day I got a call from Scott saying that he got my letter and he really couldn't talk right now but he would call me the next day. The next day I woke up and was getting ready to go to my only class that day, when my uncle knocked on my bedroom door and told me that I had a phone call. When I answered it Scott's girlfriend, Melissa, asked me if I was doing anything that day. I told her that I only had one class that day, but after that I was free. She asked me if I would let her and Scott pick me up in front of my college when my class was over. I said ok. Later that day, after Scott and Melissa picked me up they drove me to a psychiatric hospital. Then instead of just leaving me there, they stayed and waited with me, even though they had plans to go out for they day. They also helped me with everything that happened after I went there. That is the day that I finally realized that I had a problem and told other people about it.

Why do I cut myself? I really can't say why. Sometimes I did it to feel something because I was feeling void of any feeling or emotion. Sometimes I did it late at night, so I could go to sleep. Other times I did it because I felt different emotions overwhelming me and I didn't know how to control them. Whenever I cut myself all my problems went away and I felt emotions again. It also helped to eliminate the emotion that was overwhelming me.

I realized that instead of helping me deal with my problems it just created new ones that pushed all of my old problems out of the lime light. I had to figure out how I was going to hide the cuts and scars, since I didn't own any long-sleeve shirts. Luckily I like the store Hot Topic and one time when I was there I bought two pairs of stockings for my arms and I wore them whenever I went out. When I went swimming I tried to hide my arms as best as I could. If someone noticed the scars and cuts I told them the same excuse every time. I told them that my neighbor's cats scratched me. Every time I told someone that I felt bad, I am a big cat lover and no cat has ever scratched me. In fact all cats love me.

Another reason that cutting made me feel bad is because of all the times that I lied to Scott and Melissa. Every time that they asked me if I was cutting myself anymore (before I realized that I had a problem and wrote Scott that letter), I would lie to them and tell them that I wasn't. If they asked me why I was wearing the stockings on my arms I would tell them that I wore them because I liked them. Which isn't a lie, but I wore them every day, and before I started cutting myself I only wore them when I thought that they would look cool with the shirt that I was wearing.

If anyone is still cutting himself or herself or thinking about starting and they are reading this, I would tell them to stop or to don't start. I would also tell them that they need to go get help and look stuff up about cutting on the Internet. Also they should confide in someone that the can trust. It really helps to be able to talk to someone. I know that it helped me. Although I haven't completely gotten to the point where I am confident that I can handle anything without turning to my Swiss Army knife, I am working towards it. Although I still cut myself on occasion it is nearly not as often as I used to. I know that I will probably have scars on my arms forever they will always be a reminder of a time in my life when I realized that there are people in my life I can truly trust. As long as I can talk to Scott and Melissa I feel I can handle anything that life and fate throw my way. In my opinion Scott and Melissa saved my life and I will always be grateful to them, because I don't think I could have faced this problem head on all by myself. They gave me the strength to face my problem with cutting and to realize that I need help.