So… here's my story. I finally decided to write it including every single thing I have felt and I hope that this will help other cutters. Personally I'm of the idea that no one, even the best therapist in the world can fully understand what we, self-injurers, feel.

I used to have a perfect life with no problems at all, straight A's at school, many friends, two very close best friends, not a very nice family but I didn't care much until the rest of my life was ok. Then one day my world turned all wrongly. I was overstressed at school, my two best friends were getting distant and my family was totally unsupportive, actually my parents only stressed me more. My mother got a terrible depression and my father has never been very present in my life. My parents' only care was for me to be brilliant and that I got to the best university in the world. Suddenly life at home became unbearable. At meals we didn't talk, I tried to make up discussions but they died away almost at once. My mother was feeling terrible and my father was of no help, completely incapable of helping anyone with a psychological problem. He only just shouted at her telling her that she had to react and that she was being stupid and weak. Sometimes I overheard phone conversations between my mother and her friends where she told them her feelings: I couldn't bear it.

During mid-fall vacations I got flu and I had to stay at home for a few days. That was the thing that broke me definitely. I couldn't study, I was overwhelmed with feelings, that's when I started cutting. I don't know how it happened. I tried to scratch my forearm with my fingernails and then I went to the bathroom, picked the scissors and scratched my skin over and over. It made me feel better about that sensation of being trapped and that boredom. I didn't worry much, I was almost happy for having found something that could ease my pain, give me relief. I kept on cutting every 4/5 days always a bit deeper, and my life situation kept getting worse. I knew I was doing something wrong but somehow I didn't feel I was in it, I just thought, 'well, I'm only doing this for a bit of relief, I can stop when I want'. So untrue… In the meantime my mother was as sick as ever and my friends distant. One night I had a really bad dream. I was walking down a dark corridor till I got to the mirror at the end. I laid my hands onto the sink and slowly I looked into the mirror and saw blood all over my face which was becoming whiter and whiter. Insane relief went over my body, all my sufferings were pouring out with the blood, I was numb and no longer feeling. I woke up and that feeling of numbness followed me all day as I kept reviving the dream, wishing to be there, imagining warm, red blood covering me carrying out all my emotions with it. That scared me. Later that week I cut myself 7 times in one night. Scissors didn't satisfy me anymore, I tried all cutting objects in the house, and (luckily) I didn't find anything that cut really deep, to make the blood pour out. I got even more scared, I tried to talk to another friend, wishing that in some way he would discover what I was doing. Then Christmas time arrived and I got a bit happier at first, I decided not to cut. But it was a very feeble desire. I had to spend too much time at home with my parents, it was too much for me, I couldn't stand it. I was too stressed and tense during all the festive dinners, and each time I had to run to the bathroom to cut deep into my skin. It calmed me, I could get back to dinner and wear for another hour the mask of the happy daughter. Another problem: I'm such a good liar. When in company I was so perfectly happy that no one could've ever suspected anything. But when I was alone, all the emotions I had suppressed came out with even more strength. Slowly, very slowly I was wasting myself away. But the worst things were that I continued to think that I wasn't doing anything too dangerous and that I could stop anytime. And I didn't want to stop, for me it was an effective way to deal with negative feelings. Then New Year's Eve came, and that was the evening that saved me. I was having dinner with my parents, but it was terrible for me. My mother depressed, my father wearing a false smile, nothing to really talk about. After dinner I had to go to a party. Five minutes before going out, I felt so much tension that I just had to go to the bathroom. I sat on the floor took the scissors and while my family was 'celebrating' in the living room, I was cutting. I cut once, it eased the tension, it wasn't enough to get high, I cut deeper, my hands trembled and I let the scissors fall to the floor, but I felt better. I was more relaxed, the pain in my arm distracted me from the pain inside me. I met my friends and I seemed to them happy as ever, but I wasn't. I drank, I wanted to get high, to feel numb not just for a few minutes but for hours. I got what I wanted, at first. I wasn't feeling anything at all, I wasn't thinking. But a few hours later, the alcohol made me cry and scream uncontrollably. I don't remember almost anything except pulling up my sleeve and saying: 'I cut! I cut! I don't know why am I doing this!' to my ex-boyfriend and my two best friends. They were of course shocked. My parents never found out. I remember the following two weeks as some kind of bad dream. One of the worst moments has been when my friends asked me whether it was true. That was the first time I felt as if I was doing something terribly wrong, that I had to stop. I felt a sudden disgust to cutting, I didn't want to ever do it again. My friends made me feel worse repeating over and over that I had to go to a counselor or to tell my parents, but I didn't want to. It made me think that they thought I was too weird, that they rejected me and didn't want to help, but preferred someone else do the 'dirty work'. I didn't want them neither to worry nor to repeat their stupid advice so I told them that everything was ok and that I had stopped cutting for good. I was half-convinced that I would not cut again, but after about 10 days it happened again. I was feeling worse than ever, the whole world around me was gray, I felt numb, unreal. One night I felt so unreal, I couldn't sleep, I cut to feel alive and then I suddenly burst into tears uncontrollably. A few weeks later I was so stressed and sad that I desperately needed cutting, I tried to control this urge but I wanted to self-injure so badly that when I gave in I cut even deeper than I would have done normally. Again, just after cutting I started crying harder than ever. I wanted to stop because it made me feel terrible but I couldn't. Another few weeks passed without cutting when I went to the mountains with my parents for a week. It was horrible, my mother felt as if she was about to die, my father had the usual fake happiness, telling my mother that she was being stupid. Obviously I cut. I didn't even try to resist the urge, I felt too bad, I didn't have the strength. When I came home after the vacation I felt psychologically very weak, I understood that cutting just made things worse, I was feeling horrible. I looked around the web for information on self-injury and I found lots of stories similar to mine and I understood that I was not alone to feel those things. And also that I was deeply involved in this, something that I had never realized. I decided to really stop, and finally it was a strong desire, full of determination. But stopping hasn't been easy at all. For more than a month I was completely obsessed with the desire to cut which I had constantly to fight. More than once I have thought that I didn't have the necessary strength but nevertheless I didn't cut. But I was feeling as if I was slowly maddening, I couldn't think about anything else. One day I was so overwhelmed that I told how I was feeling to one of my friends to whom I wouldn't ever have thought of telling. And incredibly he understood. Finally I had found a person to whom I could tell everything without hearing stupid or useless advice. I felt much much better, and after about a week spent talking with him I felt almost happy and peaceful. One night I was sad for my family problems, I thought about cutting but suddenly I understood that I didn't want to do it anymore, cutting wasn't a part of my life anymore. I felt much stronger, I could control it, for the first time in many months I was feeling well and finally I was sure that I had defeated this problem with my own determination.

A special 'thank you' to my dear friend who made me feel like an angel with broken wings and then listening patiently to my problems helped me repair them so I could fly again. Thank you for letting me rise into the sky.