As a child, I would have episodes where something would set me off.

I'd fly into a rage and start hitting and biting myself, or pulling my hair.

Years later, it turned into cutting.

I had never even heard of it before then.

It became the one thing I used to cope with the horrible depression.

Everyday, sometimes several times a day I would do it.

At home, at school, wherever I could. I never left the house without something sharp.

It started off with small things, then I had a small knife from the kitchen. It went with me everywhere.

I managed to hide this for almost 2 years.

Finally my mom found out, most likely a friend told her.

I was terrified.

Not much happened though. I was sent to professional after professional, not very qualified though.

A few times I cut too deep. There were also a few suicide attempts in there.

I had no will to live for about 3 yrs. It was a struggle to stay alive.

I was in the psych ward 4 times in my teen years.
They eventually banned me, saying it wasn't useful to keep letting me go there.

As of now (2008) I am almost at one year of not harming myself.

How I feel about it:

It's a very shameful thing for me at times.

It is NOT a 'fad'. It is not 'fun' or 'cool'. It IS an illness.

It can cause great damage, physically.

It can scare away your friends and family. They have no idea why someone would possibly want to do that to themselves.
(Neither do I, most of the time...).


It is also a coping skill. An unhealthy one, yet, it is what helps/helped me stay alive during my worst times.