"Her wrist showed, horribly scarred. There were welts all across the inner side, some old and white, others fresh and raw. She gazed at it with mixed awe and loathing. She was artistic and creative as well as smart, but this was none of these things. This was closer to her real nature, ugly and dull and tragic, that had to be hidden from others."

                           --From "Virtual Mode" by Piers Anthony



It's been a little under a month since I last updated this page and I'm proud to say that I haven't done any cutting in that time. There were a few times that I felt very weak and tempted to do it but I kept telling myself how dissappointed I, and other people, would be if I did and that I was better than that. I do have a request though. A friend of mine is having problems with his daughter because she suffers from depression and has tried to hurt herself seriously on several occassions so please keep their family in your prayers.

Well, time to update again. I got rid of the "counter" at the bottom of the page because I was having trouble remember which days I'd cut and which days I hadn't. The other day I didn't cut but I did welt my arm using my nails after Mike and I got into a fight. I mostly did it because I said some things that I later regreted and I was mad at myself for hurting Mike. My arm's all healed already but I really do think I'm going to have to find some little toy to carry around with me or something so that I don't keep doing this to myself. Any suggestions for a toy or something?

Not much is going on since the last time I updated this. Things are going much better between Mike and I and I've been doing great with not cutting.


Well, I decided it was time for my first update on this page. If this is your first time hear the please read my little story below. If you've been here before, there's no need to read it again. I decided rather than re-write that every time I update, I'm just going to write updates above it. That way new people can see my progress from the beginning. Unfortunately, last week I had a very bad episode of depression. Mike, my husband, and I were fighting a lot so I was having a lot of trouble coping with things. One day I got so upset I got out a razor blade and cut my thigh with it. I didn't think I had cut myself badly but I drew blood. Afterwards, I felt ashamed for being so weak. After that day Mike and I have been doing a lot of talking and trying to deal with our problems in a more productive way. In that time my leg has healed and so has my heart. The happier I am the harder it is to cut and since I have problems with dealing with my emotions it means I have to make an extra effort if I want to be able to go without abusing myself. Well, I guess that's about it.


I'm a self-mutilator. I can't really say how long I've been one because I've done it as far back as I can remember. I can remember drawing pictures of dismembered and mutilated bodies in second or third grade. It seemed normal to me to think about blood and gore and things like that. Then about fifth grade I became somewhat obsessed with the idea of commiting suicide. Over the years I went from wanting to hang myself to wanting to slice my wrists. In ninth grade I finally lost my suicidal urges. By that time I had begun self-abuse. The first time I remember doing something considered really abusive is when I scratched my thighs with a pair of scissors. I did it because of a fight with my brother. Looking back, I realize I did other things even before then. The first method of self-abuse that I can recall is when I would cut off the circulation to my head until I felt like it would explode. Over the years it went from that to scratching with my nails (leaving welts on my stomach which would last from a few hours to a day or two) to burning myself with a curling iron. My freshman year of college I got involved in a bad relationship which only worsened my depression and my "habit." There was one day that I become so upset that I was crying hysterically and slit my wrist with a razor. It took a few tries but I kept cutting until I drew blood. Fortunately the blade wasn't sharp enough for me to do any real damage. Towards the end of last summer I tried to burn off my breasts with my curling iron but was unsucessful. The next day I had my parents admit me to Taylor Manor Psychiatric Hospital for treatment. I stayed in the hospital for a few days and then was released into the care of my parents and a psychologist. They put me on Paxil to try and control the depression which they believed was more of a problem than my self-abuse. A short time after I got out of the hospital I ended the relationship I was in, met someone on-line and moved cross country to be with him. In doing so I gave up my medication and the treatment of my psychologist. I believed that I was strong enough to take care of myself without that help. I've done well with my depression but it's hard to keep from hurting myself. In the past year there have still been instances of hurting myself. At one point I thought I had the problem beat but I realized that I had simply gone from cutting myself to punching myself in the face. When I first started doing these things it was the only way I could find a release for all the pain that was inside me. Feeling the physical pain made the emotional pain a little easier. And when things got too emotionally hurtful, the physical pain helped me keep my grip on reality. Towards the end I started doing some of it to try and get help. It was like I wanted to be able to say to someone "look at me, look at what I've done, help me, this is how bad I hurt inside." But yet, I would still hide my wounds. I would cut my stomach, or upper legs where no one would see. The time that I cut my wrist, when people asked what happened I told them I cut it on my bed. Despite wanting the attention and the help, I was too scared to ask for it. Now I spend every day making sure that I don't hurt myself. It isn't easy but I've gone five days now without cutting, burning, or punching. I feel that as long as I make a conscious effort to stop that I can. I know that there will always be a little voice telling me to do it but every time I say no that voice gets a little weaker. Well, I guess that's all I can really say for now. If you're someone who cuts or know someone that does please fill out my survey or just visit The Wall of Healing.


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