Teen cutting is something every parent needs to understand. It’s something that you can’t turn away from, because it is happening… Every. Single. Day. This is my story, I hope it helps someone.
When I was about 14 I met a boy, he was depressed, a thinker, felt misunderstood, and kept a razor blade in his locker. He taught me about cutting, and how it took the pain away, and made you feel “in control”. He was right, about the cutting. That’s exactly what it did. It was powerful, more powerful than even I knew.
When I was 14 my life wasn’t like other kids my age. I thought about things other kids didn’t, I didn’t understand life, and I was in pain. I was depressed, and life didn’t make sense. I hurt deeply for those around me, both those I knew personally, and those I had never even met. My heart was always heavy, and I often felt confused about everything. I wanted to be “good”, and make my parents happy, but I also wanted to have fun, and do what all the other kids were doing. It was sort of a catch 22. The more “fun” I had, the worse I felt about myself and my life. Even though everyone around me cared about me, I didn’t feel it. I felt alone, and mainly I felt out of control.
I smoked weed to numb the feelings of guilt, and it worked during the high. After that it was even worse than before the drugs. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I just couldn’t seem to make the right choices. So I started to take control.
When my parents would do something I didn’t like, or try to get me to do something I didn’t want to do; I would slice the skin and watch it bleed. I would control the amount of pain I felt, and as the blood flowed it released everything that was built up inside. It felt freeing…for a while. I felt in control; no one could hurt me more than I could hurt myself.
I wanted to be loved, to be understood, not to feel the pain. I wanted someone to pay attention to me.
Cutting brought attention my way, but it was not what I wanted at all. Instead of hugs it brought arm restraints and hospital beds. I was trapping myself in a life, that wasn’t a life at all.
That’s the thing about cutting, it’s extremely dangerous… even when you think you’re in control, you’re not. When I was 15 my mom and I were arguing and I was threatening to run away with my boyfriend. When she told me she was going to call his mom, I lost it. I felt so helpless and out of control I did the only thing I knew to do to stop everything around me. I went into my bedroom, grabbed a box cutter and slashed my arm. It wasn’t until I saw the fat and muscle of my arm and watched the blood slowly flow through the veins that I realized I had gone too far. I couldn’t undo what I had done.
Every day I see the scar and remember the choice I made that day. I would be lying if I said I have never felt the urge to try and medicate the pain of this life. I would be lying if I said I didn’t still hurt deeply for those around me, the ones I know personally, and those I’ve never met. But I’ve found a better way.
Cutting didn’t make my life easier, it did the opposite.
There is hope, there is more to this life than the pain you may be feeling.
Please, whatever you do, don’t give up! If you’re a cutter, I promise you there is a better way. If you are trying to help a cutter, I hope this post helps you better understand how they may be feeling.
If you feel like no one understands, I’m begging you to email me. I care about you, even though I don’t know you personally, and I understand.
You can always email me at faithfullyfree AT hotmail.com