My name is Ash and I'm 17. I don't remember exactly when I started cutting, but it came after an attempt to slit my wrists failed.

I've never had a very content home life, and I was raped when I was 14, where I fell pregnant and miscarried. I never really had anyone to turn to, and I became severely depressed.

When I tried to slit my wrists, I don't think I wanted to die, I just wanted everything I was feeling to stop. I had never heard of cutting before, and I think it was more by accident than anything else that I discovered it.

When I started cutting, it was a way for me to be in control. I needed to see the blood and get the sense of relief and calmness that came with drawing the blade across my skin.

At first, I rarely did it. It was just one of those last resort things, and it was only lightly on the inside of my wrist where I could easily hide it. Then it became more frequent, deeper, and extended to my stomach and thighs. Whenever I was overwhelmed my negative emotions, I cut. Whenever something bad happened, I cut. And that meant something more than simply a bad day at school. But whatever the reasons I had for cutting myself, pleasure and fun were not one of them.

Last year I tried to stop cutting. I hated that I hurt myself to cope, and I hated everything else that came with it. When I couldn't stop simply because I wanted to, it finally dawned on me that the cutting now had the control over me, not the other way around. But I didn't do anything about it. I continued to cut and sank further down into the depths of my despair.

It is now October 2005, and in the past ten months, I have had eight suicide attempts, all with overdoses and cutting. I have spent a few weeks here and there in three different psychiatric hospitals, as well as my local hospital. I have been diagnosed with major depression, PTSD, and borderline personality disorder, and I have tried numerous medications.

You would think that with all the people trying to help me, that my cutting would have stopped or at least lessened. Instead, it is getting worse, almost to an alarming rate. I now have very bad scars on my thighs, stomach and all the way up my arms, both on the top and underside.

I was raped again this year, and I know that has played a big role in why I'm so messed up, along with past issues that I just haven't dealt with. I find it hard to trust people and I have continuously pushed away the people who have tried to help me.

I would give anything to be okay, to be able to stop cutting. But right now, I feel as if I never will. It has control over my life, and in a way, it still helps. Recently I have come to the conclusion that I can hurt myself more than anyone else can, and that knowledge has lulled me into a false sense of safety.

Although I am still very suicidal and have to constantly have my wounds stitched up, I want to stress to others this...

Don't ever give up, and don't ever stop trying to find a way out of the hole that life sometimes puts us in. Cutting and self-injury isn't the answer. There are other ways to cope. We just have to find them.

Please stay safe...