I am a young mother of 2 kids. I am 22 years old and my oldest daughter is 4 and my youngest is 7 months. I started cutting myself when I was 17. Here is my story:

I was a senior in high school and in the Delayed Entry Program (DEP) for the Air Force. All was going well, I had a boyfriend who loved me dearly, I had great friends... everything was great. I graduated (thank the Lord) high school and things between my boyfriend and I were escalating. My dad didn't like the idea of us being together. He was afraid Jason (that is his name) would talk me out of entering the military and get me pregnant, which he did but that's for later. I don't remember what started the argument between my dad and I, but we started arguing anyhow. I had said something about not wanting to go in the Air Force and he made a comment about how if I didn't go in, that he would kick me out of the house. I said that that was fine because I'd move in with Jason and my dad made comments about how that wouldn't last long. Then he called me a "stupid fuckin shit". I ran to my room crying. My dad called me stupid!! Of all words! The very word that makes me feel lower than scum. I started pacing in my room, I didn't know what to do....

I saw this little silver blade that I used to sharpen my eye pencils. I grabbed it and started cutting myself on my inner forearm. Don't know what possessed me to do that but damn did it feel good. I felt IMMEDIATELY calm. Something made me feel better!!! I thought to myself ....at least it's not crack or something. So I didn't see the harm. I wore long sleeves to cover them and made excuses if people saw.

A little after that I moved in with Jason. I was pregnant and we eventually married. Needless to say, the Air Force went bye bye for me. I was "happy" though. Dare tell my dad how many problems Jason and I have?? Dare not!! So I kept a lot of stuff bottled in. I couldn't cut myself because I risked my OBGYN seeing them and I was scared they would take my baby away. So while I was pregnant, I didn't. I just got majorly depressed and didn't eat. Not eating + pregnancy = not good. After I had my daughter HUGE problems arose between Jason and I. And I started cutting myself again. I would let them heal before I would cut myself again. My dad noticed them when he was helping us move one day. He asked what happened and I said a cat did that. He seemed to have believed me. I was relieved. Some time went on before I had cut myself again... during this time Jason and I had so many problems. It's a wonder why I don't have scars over my entire body. Anyways, he got a new, better paying job far away from my family. So we moved. When we got there we learned it was a traveling job. Where he would have to leave the country for months at a time. He had to go to Germany. He went to Germany a month after my dear grandmother had died and after I had a miscarriage. Not the best time for him to be leaving. I started cutting myself again. He came home, he saw, he asked. I just told him I didn't know what else to do. A little while after that we had a huge argument about nothing (like always) he started to physically hurt me again. I couldn't take it anymore and sliced my arms bad enough to need stitches (obviously I couldn't go to the ER though). He came in and saw what I was doing and proceeded to beat me. Real good way to stop me huh?

My daughter had witnessed what just happened. She was crying... I felt so much guilt running through me, but I would look down at my arms... the blood running, the pain, the thought that they would eventually turn into beautiful scars. My beautiful, beautiful scars... to look down at them when I knew I couldn't cut myself just made me feel better in a way.

That was the last time I cut myself because my daughter had seen it. A while later I learned I was pregnant and knew once again, that I DEFINITELY couldn't do it again.

My daughter is 7 months old now and I just got the biggest urges to cut myself. Just to get my trusty razor and slice it through my skin. The longing to see my open flesh and blood pouring out. It really IS a beautiful sight but I know I can't see it again. I promised my dad I would never do it again after my mothers suicide. Jason decided to divorce me right after her death.... while I was 4 months pregnant. Such a swell guy...

So I look down at my beautiful scars and long for them to be opened again. And for now.... that's all that I can do...