My name is Jenifer, this is my experience with self injury.

I have always felt awkward, as long as can remember. I feel shame. I feel stupid. I feel like a misfit. I am 18 years old now, and starting to get over these feelings.

I am shy, and always have been. People point this out a lot. When I was little, at day care, one of the workers called me "backwards." I guess my Mom was really angered by this. She felt like she had to protect me from the world, from a young age. She was the stereotypical neurotic mother - verbally and emotionally abusive. When I would have problems with bullies at school, like most kids do, she would fly into a rage. I remember one time she took me to a girls house and told me to get out of the car and defend myself. I wouldn't, I just sat there, hysterical and crying. She called me a weakling, and other names, and we went home, where she locked me out of the house. I just sat outside, crying. I wanted to die. A stupid remark some girl had made at school suddenly snowballed into a big time crisis. All I needed was someone to tell me that people are cruel sometimes, they don't mean to be. All I needed was a hug, and maybe an ice cream. Hah.

Mom put me into therapy at age 14. I had no good friends, I was sad and quiet and wrote furiously in my journal all day. I started self injuring at this time, although I didn't realize that was what it was. I would just pick at myself with pins and pinch myself and pick at scabs. My nails were bloody messes, and I chalked it up to nerves.

At 15 I met some kids who self injured. Finally, some people who knew what it felt like... it was a relief. I had little scratches from disposable razors, nothing major. I didn't really do anything bad until a friend gave me a stainless steel blade. This is when the scars came. I was going to kill myself, at first. I cut my wrist, but I decided I couldn't do it. And suddenly, it was my ritual. I had no life. No boyfriends. Boys liked me, but I didn't like them. They didn't understand, they were happy and carefree. I was trapped inside my head, every minor event in life was a trauma for me. I learned this from a young age, from my mother, from the people who called me backwards.... I was too bookish, too somber.

All I felt was shame. If only I was someone else, somewhere else... There was always constant criticism, my B wasn't good enough, I was an A student. Why was I always frowning? I wasn't allowed to express unhappiness. Thus began the cycle. If you're unhappy go to your room. Now you're more unhappy, and alienated in your room. Shame. Self-defeat. I was getting lost.

I severed an artery, and bled all over the place one day. The ambulance came, and off I went. I was sent to a mental hospital. I met people like me, some worse off, some with parents who just couldn't deal with a kid who wasn't happy. I spent a week there, feeling like there was no place for me in the world. When I got back, everyone knew about it. My parents forbid me to hang out with my friends. They hated me anyway, like it was a competition, and I won because I had stitches. I went on homebound and didn't go back to school for a while.

I was tired of being the crazy girl at school. I was harassed, and I cut. And then the panic attacks came. By the beginning of senior year, I decided to drop out. I hated my parents. My mom kicked me out of the house in a blizzard. I had a lot of issues with how she treated me as a kid. I was angry as hell, with no outlet. I tried to OD on my prescription sleeping pills. I didn't go to the hospital, and I just laid in bed for three days, feeling so screwed up I could barely move. It was like being trapped inside of a body that couldn't work. My family resigned caring about me. My mom cursed and screamed. My sister ignored me. My dad stayed out of town for weeks, for his job. I had no friends, once again.

Being out of school was good for me. I went on homebound again, and got to know some great teachers that helped me focus on positive things. I met a boy, and fell for him. I spent all my time at his apartment. When he moved, I broke down. I cut my legs, hid in my room, wanted to die. I can't believe I went to pieces over a guy now, but in my mind he was a savior. He was my happiness, my future. We moved in together a month later. I was 17.

I wanted so desperately to be happy. I was, too. I think it was the first time I ever felt happy, in our little apartment together. He was the best friend I have ever had. Things did get worse, though. They always do. We were both too young to manage the bills and the responsibility of life away from our parents. I did horrible in college. Anxiety came crawling back in once my situation became apparent. I started having panic attacks again, and I was so frustrated I quit all of my medication and stopped seeing my doctor. I didn't realize I was doing it, but I began pulling of my fingernails, and when he asked me I would tell him they "fell off". I believed it too. I didn't want to believe it was self injurious behavior. That would mean I needed help. It was a compulsion. It was disgusting and sickening. I felt like crap.

He left me, eventually. He said we were going to break up anyway, since I wanted to go to school in another state and he wanted to move with his parents. I didn't freak out. It hit me at that point. I had to be strong. I had to go on. I am almost 19. I have barely known a happy, carefree, moment.

I am tired of being the crazy girl. I am tired of being a weakling. I am tired of wondering what could have been with my life. I haven't cut in almost a year. I know what I was doing with my nails was self injurious. But they've grown back, and I haven't had a panic attack in almost 6 months. I want to get out of this crazy cycle, and I am. I want to get away from my family and this town. I am. Finally, slowly, I am letting go of the shame of these scars. I am recovering, on my own. If I slip, I'll climb back up. I'll take care of myself, because I love myself - I really, truly, love myself. I feel bad for the little girl I once was. I'll take better care of her now. I'm ready to. I am going to create a life for myself far away, and I will let go of the pain and the worry. Just watch me.