Dating a certain person, smoking for the first time,
drinking, never getting in that car, not taking that picture – what would it
be? It could be as big or little as you want it to be. It would prevent
everything else from happening. What would be the one thing you’d take back
from EVER happening?
For me; locking myself in my room and believing the lie
that taking a blade to my skin would only happen once.
A friend had told me she was cutting a few weeks earlier;
she said she never thought she would ever cut, but that when she did it felt so
good. When I heard her say that, I couldn’t believe her. How could causing
yourself harm feel good? After that day, that thought never left me; cutting
feeling good. I played with the thought for weeks – and one day the thought
became an action.
I knew where my mom kept her razors; I walked into the
bathroom, leaned down and grabbed a new razor out of a bag. I looked at it and
studied it; I still couldn’t believe I was going to do what I was going to do.
I grabbed tissue and then went to my room. Locking the door behind me I sat on
my bed as I pulled up my pant leg and pushed down my sock. I lifted the razor
to my ankle and placed it to my skin; I pulled away a few times, still not
fully sure.
After a while I pushed hard on the razor and pulled down
hard. The instant sting of the razor made me grind my teeth; I closed my eyes
and breathed in deep. It did feel good. I looked at my ankle and instantly
blood drew. I sat on my bed in shock.
In disbelief I did it again and again and again. Before I
knew it I had cut the full length and width of my ankle and had cut up my leg.
It felt so good, I couldn’t stop – and still can’t. But just as quickly as I
started to cut, cutting couldn’t content me; I needed more pain. I quickly
started to burn, than brand, scratch, hair pull and then eating disorders. I
seeked pain and how I could cause it. Nothing lasted very long.
Not too quickly after I started to cut did I start to
think about suicide. It became an obsession of mine.
I was so depressed, so sad, I was always alone, always
isolating myself; I had trapped myself within early on and didn’t know how to
escape.
