As I sit here and read all these stories, I feel very sad. Amongst this sorrow and pain is a sense of defiance; we harm ourselves, we deal with it, its something we do...truthfully, we hate it...but we wont/cant give it up. And I understand all those feelings, despite saying that, and yet I feel so sad.

I first cut myself when I was thirteen. My mum had been out at the theatre, and my grandma was baby-sitting. I hated myself, and that night the feelings were so strong. I had eaten "too much" and I had had enough. When I heard my mum come home and collect my grandma to take her home, I "flipped out." I ran out of my room and found a pair of nail scissors, and scratched away, but it wasn't enough. I found a sharpener and spent 5 minutes trying to unscrew it with my eyebrow tweezers, before smashing it apart. The blood gave me relief, the cuts-they scared and fascinated me. It wasn't deep, but I still have the faint white scars under the newer, thick deep ones. Experience. Hah. My arm looks puffy from the layering of old and new scars. This was the beginning.

I started cutting every night. It was what kept me going through the day; however crappy it was I could cut when I got home. My blade came everywhere with me, and I used to panic if it wasn't with me. I started a ritual, three cuts on my left upper arm for every item (big or small- a nibble or a bite, components of a meal or even, god forbid, a whole sandwich) I had eaten that day. An evening meal, which I couldn't avoid because of my mum, equaled about 18+ cuts (still not deep), 3 for a piece of broccoli, 6 for 2 potatoes, 6 for 2 slices of meat, etc. plus a few extra for being greedy and eating in the first place. I had been, at one point, diagnosed with anorexia, and the cutting started after the hospital began to treat me like I didn't really have a problem, I was just from a dysfunctional family.

After a while it became worse. My mum read my diary and questioned me. She made me show her. I told her I'd never do it again. I cried, I realised what I was doing. But it came back.My friend stole the best blade I've ever had from my pencil case. I didn't talk to her again. They worried because they thought I was going to kill myself.

For a while, out of the blue, I realised I didn't need to cut. But then (quite commonly) my eating became worse and I lost weight again. It's like the two behaviours swap. I stopped and didn't cut for months. I don't remember exactly what made me start again, but probably a "loss of control" over what I ate contributed. Since then I have burnt, punched, pulled out my hair, scratched myself. I have taken an overdose in an attempt to end my life.

I still struggle with SI today. The scars have caused me much anguish, as I am a dancer and costumes are a problem. But otherwise they are a reminder, and a comfort of what I can do, and of how much I hate myself.Cutting is an addiction, I am addicted to harming myself. My skin tingles and aches for a blade to cut it, to open it. Sharp objects sing out to me.

The deepness, severity of harming yourself does not matter. Reading some of these stories I felt like I don't have a problem. But hurting yourself to cope isn't normal. It is not OK. Even if you don't faint when you cut, even if x or y doesn't happen, even if it's a couple of scratches...if you meant to hurt yourself, something isn't right.People will not always understand. They cannot comprehend what it is like to harm yourself deliberately or why you need to.


At the moment I cannot stop. But I will. I will get to a point and I will try. I will no longer see this as a competition. We all have a right to attention, we all need attention, but at the end of the day, the only way we will get it pure and simple, is to talk. It is a lot easier. It can be a lot less harmful to yourself, just to open up to someone. Even if that person is a professional.

If you're proud of the fact you hurt yourself, think why. Then think about the feelings you have. Do you like those feelings? Do you like the way you feel before you cut? Can you honestly stand up and say "yes"? Do you really enjoy the internal pain, loneliness, anger...? Are you still proud? Can you still say I want to keep hurting myself because it makes me feel better? Does it? Or do the feelings come back? Do you keep cutting anyway?

Sometimes it feels like it is the only way to cope. It is something "I" do that makes "me" different, special, unique... it's just the way "I" cope. It doesn't have to be. Sometimes some of the feelings and emotions will never go away...but there are other ways to cope.

I offer this as another way of thinking. I'm now only fifteen, and I've "only" harmed myself for two years. I'm not a teenager going through a phase. I have mental health problems. I have screwed up coping mechanisms. I know this, and again to contradict myself, I can't yet stop. But that's because I haven't yet found the real reason to stop, but I will. And I won't do it alone.

Don't be hard on yourself because you harm yourself, or because of the way you feel inside. Just know, please, even if it's only from me, little (big) old (youngish) me, that you deserve better.

You deserve better. You deserve to not have to feel like this. Cut too deep, too much, bam, your life is over. Do you really, really want that? Or do you just want the feelings = the pain, to stop?

My "story" is done. You can laugh at me, go back to living in the hell hole that is self injury. Tell me and others and yourself that you need it, deserve it, want it. I will not believe you. And I've been there. You deserve more than this.