Autumn 2006-
What started as a normal, fun day, spent with my Mom, turned into a nightmare.
My world was turned upside down & from that point on I felt like something was stolen from me.
I was hurt.
I felt worthless.
A lot of things went through my mind.
I had convinced myself that the only reason why all of this happened was because I was meant to feel pain.
So what did I do?
I reached for my pocket knife & pressed it into my skin & let it glide across my arm.
I gasped as the cool air stung my open flesh.
It hurt, but it felt good.
I felt relieved in a way.
I sat there watching the blood drip down my arm & I knew this was only the start.
Things went wrong a lot so I took a blade with me everywhere I went.
I usually kept it in my pants pocket that way if I couldn't get somewhere private to cut, I could just hide my hands in my pocket & I'd slide the blade across my fingertips.
I was more than just addicted to cutting.
If I didn't cut, I would just lose it.
It kept me calm.
& I believed that if I didn't cut, I couldn't live.
It was my drug.
I was so careful as to keep my secret, so my parents wouldn't find out.
I was afraid of what they would think of me.
But then, I spilled to my friend Brandon.
I thought I could trust him.
But I couldn't.
He told his family, which in return they gave me an ultimatum or either, tell my parents or they will.
I didn't want my parents to find out from someone else.
So I sat my Mom down & I pulled my sleeve up & showed her.
She couldn't really say anything, she just cried & ask why.
I started going to Behavioral Health, getting the help I needed.
But really it didn't help at all, if anything I felt more uncomfortable than ever.
I went through with drawls from not cutting, but I did good.
I'm not perfect, I'd slip every once in awhile, but things were better...for the most part.
Of course good things never seem to last.
One bad day & before I knew it I had fallen back to my old routines, if not worse.
I didn't tell my parents because I knew if they found out, then they wouldn't spare me of getting sent to the mental instituion in Southern California & I didn't want that.
I was suicidal.
I had no desire to live.
If I hadn't met Joey I'd probably given up a long time ago.
He's the only person who seemed to truly care & want to help me, though I didn't want it at the time.
But he was persistent in helping me & my negative attitude towards things slowly got more positive.
In January 2009 I went a month without cutting, which was a record for me.
Of course I slipped again...& in March 2009 I slipped majorly & cut 25 times in 2 days.
As much as I love the feeling I get from cutting, I was hurting the people, or person I loved the most.
I was pushing away & I hadn't even realized how much MY cutting could affect OTHERS.
I'm starting to realize that with every cut, leaves a mark on the people I love & care about.
I'm not perfect but I'm trying my best to break the habit.
Cutting & any form of self-abuse is not healthy & life-threatening.
I'm left with multiple scars on my body that remind me everyday of my mistakes.
It hurts to look at them & I feel uncomfortable showing my body because of them.
I'm ashamed.
But what's done is done.
Scars are forever.
This is my own personal experience & I believe with a little love we can make a difference.
Rescue is possible.
Love is the movement.
Stop the bleeding.
Pick up the phone.
TWLOHA- http://www.twloha.com
What started as a normal, fun day, spent with my Mom, turned into a nightmare.
My world was turned upside down & from that point on I felt like something was stolen from me.
I was hurt.
I felt worthless.
A lot of things went through my mind.
I had convinced myself that the only reason why all of this happened was because I was meant to feel pain.
So what did I do?
I reached for my pocket knife & pressed it into my skin & let it glide across my arm.
I gasped as the cool air stung my open flesh.
It hurt, but it felt good.
I felt relieved in a way.
I sat there watching the blood drip down my arm & I knew this was only the start.
Things went wrong a lot so I took a blade with me everywhere I went.
I usually kept it in my pants pocket that way if I couldn't get somewhere private to cut, I could just hide my hands in my pocket & I'd slide the blade across my fingertips.
I was more than just addicted to cutting.
If I didn't cut, I would just lose it.
It kept me calm.
& I believed that if I didn't cut, I couldn't live.
It was my drug.
I was so careful as to keep my secret, so my parents wouldn't find out.
I was afraid of what they would think of me.
But then, I spilled to my friend Brandon.
I thought I could trust him.
But I couldn't.
He told his family, which in return they gave me an ultimatum or either, tell my parents or they will.
I didn't want my parents to find out from someone else.
So I sat my Mom down & I pulled my sleeve up & showed her.
She couldn't really say anything, she just cried & ask why.
I started going to Behavioral Health, getting the help I needed.
But really it didn't help at all, if anything I felt more uncomfortable than ever.
I went through with drawls from not cutting, but I did good.
I'm not perfect, I'd slip every once in awhile, but things were better...for the most part.
Of course good things never seem to last.
One bad day & before I knew it I had fallen back to my old routines, if not worse.
I didn't tell my parents because I knew if they found out, then they wouldn't spare me of getting sent to the mental instituion in Southern California & I didn't want that.
I was suicidal.
I had no desire to live.
If I hadn't met Joey I'd probably given up a long time ago.
He's the only person who seemed to truly care & want to help me, though I didn't want it at the time.
But he was persistent in helping me & my negative attitude towards things slowly got more positive.
In January 2009 I went a month without cutting, which was a record for me.
Of course I slipped again...& in March 2009 I slipped majorly & cut 25 times in 2 days.
As much as I love the feeling I get from cutting, I was hurting the people, or person I loved the most.
I was pushing away & I hadn't even realized how much MY cutting could affect OTHERS.
I'm starting to realize that with every cut, leaves a mark on the people I love & care about.
I'm not perfect but I'm trying my best to break the habit.
Cutting & any form of self-abuse is not healthy & life-threatening.
I'm left with multiple scars on my body that remind me everyday of my mistakes.
It hurts to look at them & I feel uncomfortable showing my body because of them.
I'm ashamed.
But what's done is done.
Scars are forever.
This is my own personal experience & I believe with a little love we can make a difference.
Rescue is possible.
Love is the movement.
Stop the bleeding.
Pick up the phone.
TWLOHA- http://www.twloha.com
