I began to find relief in pain when I was about 7 years old. I would stand in front of the bathroom mirror every night after I brushed my teeth, and I would take dental floss and pull it down between my teeth until my gums would start to bleed. I never really thought anything of it though, I wasn't even sure why I did it other than the simple fact that it felt good.

A few months after I turned 11, I was raped by two boys who went to the same school as I did. Three days after the rape, I tried to kill myself. I took as many pills as I could, and I drank Windex and some other cleaning stuff. I ended up in the hospital, and I was forced to talk to a therapist after. I went back to school and the boys that did it were there since I hadn't told *I wasn't the only one they did this to though*. I couldn't feel comfortable at school, and all I could think about was getting out of there. About a week after I went back to school, I decided to try to kill myself again. This time I took a knife from the kitchen and took it up to my room. I slid it across my left wrist, and felt a sense of relief come over me. I hadn't cut deep enough to kill myself or even really to need stitches. So I stopped after that cut and whenever I felt that way again, I'd go up to my room and cut.

After that school year ended, I started going to another school. For a few months I stopped cutting, but I started again after I began to be constantly teased for being "over-weight" and never really fitting in. When I was in grade 8 my grandfather moved in with us, and he was taking all kinds of medication...I started to go through his medicine cabinet and take his pills. My mom started to notice them going missing, but she never questioned me.

When I started high school I was only cutting, and taking my grandfather's pills about once a week. But stuff became stressful, and I was again in a school with those guys...so I began to do it more often. Things started to get a lot worse last year...there were a lot of deaths in the family, and nobody really cared about how I felt, or about how anyone felt. I started fighting with my mom and everything just seemed to be falling apart. I started cutting, taking pills, burning, hitting myself, biting myself, not eating...and anything I could, usually around three times a day...I would do anything I could do to ease the pain. I'd cut myself over everything and anything. Every little thing made me want to run to my room and hurt myself in some way. It wasn't just for the big things anymore.

This past June things changed a lot. I started going out with this really great guy, and I didn't feel the need to hurt myself as much. He found out about the cutting because of some scars he saw on my stomach. It really upset him and I tried to quit for him, but I couldn't do it. He threatened to do it himself if I didn't stop, so I hid it better. I knew I was hurting him, but it was getting better. About a month ago, my mom found out about it because she read my journal. I convinced her I had stopped, even though I really hadn't and i promised her that if I wanted to do it again I would talk to someone. I stopped for almost a month, but the past two weeks have been really hard. A few days ago I sat in front of my computer and just cut for over an hour. I'm going to try and stop again though.