My name is Rachel, and I am 19 years old. I have been cutting ever since I was 14. It hasn't always been easy finding a way to cut when I need to, but that is the one thing that I have always succeeded in... finding some way to cut. This is my story.

When I entered ninth grade, I was 14 and going to turn 15 that may. My situation at home was difficult and I hated my parents more and more with every day that passed. My brother seemed perfect. Smart, funny, and well-liked. I however got the short end of the stick. Yeah I had my friends, and I'm an average student, but something was different when it came to me. My father is a psychologist, and ever since I was little, I felt like I was one of his clients, that was constantly being tested. I got the idea of cutting when I read a magazine article about a girl who had cut. I figured I'd give it a try and if it didn't work, then I'd stop... but I never stopped. I had cut for two years before I got caught. My mother saw the scars on my wrists and arms and asked me what I was doing. Then I knew my life was over when my dad came home that night.

My father and my mother took me out on our deck, and had a discussion with me about my cutting. (we've had many of these kinds of talks) My dad was all into the whole
'him being the therapist, and me being the client' thing. I was made to see several different therapists. Therapy didn't do a whole lot for me. Mostly because each time I went to see someone, I had a bad attitude towards them since my father is one. So far, I've been to four different therapists, but I am currently not seeing anyone. In my sessions, I have had to sign contracts saying that I won't kill myself or self-injure myself. Obviously I didn't kill myself, but I certainly wasn't going to let some stupid contract get in the way of my cutting. Since I had been caught, I had to be more careful of where and when I cut on myself. I started to use kitchen knives when no one was home since they were always sharp. I also used my pocket knife that I had, along with an x-acto knife I bought. I've used broken pieces of glass and pins and scissors. Eventually, I became addicted to cutting. I needed to see blood flowing from my arm.

To make a long story short, I am still cutting on myself. I've tried to stop, but I always come back to it, and it is always there for me. My parents believe that I have stopped cutting and that's the way I would like to keep it. Too me, cutting is a way of coping and it works well. I have tried to stop, but like everything else.....it didn't work out.