I remember the first time I had seen and talked to someone who had cut themselves. I remember thinking how bad it was and how could they do something like that. Before long I myself found out how such a thing could happen.
At A Glance Author Stacie When N/A My first experience with cutting was when I was eleven years old. It was a stupid childish thing. I had cut a boys initials into my arm. I honestly don't remember what I used or if it even hurt. Over time it faded and there are no marks of it. If only I had known what that one instance would turn into.
The next time I had cut myself was all over my mom's now ex-husband. I had gotten in trouble and I got sent to my room. I was so angry. I really don't remember how it crossed my mind or why I used the tool that I did. It was the metal spiral ring of a school notebook. I was sitting on the floor and I took it and started to scratch at my wrist. It didn't do much at first but I kept scratching at until there was a mark. It didn't really bleed, just mostly scabbed over. My mom had even saw a cut one time and had threatened me with being thrown into rehab. That never stopped me, I just beame more careful.
Over time I have cut myself over 100 times. I like to stick to the same areas. I cut at my ankle, my thigh, my wrist, and my arm. Most of the cuts that I have done have faded away. I have used everything from steak knives, thumbtacks, and even the metal at the bottom of a pencil. I have come to favor the razor blade. It works so much better and easier. It makes the cuts more clean and less jagged.
One time, only a couple of years ago, I cut myself so bad on my wrist that I ended up in the hospital. I received 7 stiches. I don't really remember why I did it. I think it was because I had broken up with my boyfriend, things at work were bad, and just a bunch of family problems. I had gone to CVS to buy myself a new razor blade,(my ex had previously taken all of them), And I remember thinking "I can't wait to cut myself". I couldn't even wait till I got home. I started to cut myself on the car ride home. I started cutting by going easy because of how a new razor blade is so sharp. I didn't feel anything. I kept on cutting. I then started to push harder. Eventually I had cut deep enough for the blood to start to run down my arm. I stopped until I got home.
Once home I kind of dicked around for a while. I cleaned up my fresh new cuts, ate and watched tv. Maybe three to four hours later I decided to cut myself again. I had heard that if you cut yourself under water it doesn't hurt, so I tried it. It really didn't do anything except wash away the blood. I did a few cuts before I decided to cut deeper. I didn't want to kill myself, I just thought of how deep I could go and how much it would hurt. To say the least I didn't feel anything. It was bleeding quite a lot and it didn't look like any of my other cuts. I could see some fleshy stuff and my bright blue veins. I found out later on that if I had cut any harder I would have cut my veins. I started to freak out and decided to go to the hospital.
Since then I hadn't cut myself in a year. But just a few months ago I cut myself again. I am not even sure if I want to stop. Everyday I think about cutting myself. I think of the blood and the mark it will leave. I don't regret any of the scars, they make me who I am. I enjoy looking at them and playing with the ones that are raised. As I sit back and look at my scars I think of the story behind each one. I can usually remember where I was and why I did it.
I guess the reason why I am writing this is so others can learn what it is like. Also so maybe they might think about it before they get to involved. Also always keep in mind that not everyone can or will understand why you do it. No one in my life understands why I do it. They come accept it, but that is about all. Also remember that one cut always turns into another.