Self-Injury Support Group
Whether you or someone you know or love struggles with self-injury, this is the community to discuss your experience, find support, meet others going through the same, and get advice on how to stop. Working together, we can help find alternative coping skills to reduce the urge to self-harm.
I lost it a couple days ago (it was in a pocket, and I guess it fell out when I took off my pants) and I figured it was in my room somewhere. I hunted for it but to no avail, but figured it was still probably somewhere in my room. So I gave up the search.
This morning, as I was putting the finishing touches on my baklava, my mother called from the next room, "What's this razor blade doing here?"
No good. I guess I picked it up on my sock or something and it traveled downstairs with me (it's a tiny thing taken from a disposable razor; it travels easily).
This marks the second time my mother has found a blade of mine. The first time she forced me to go to one session of counseling because I refused to talk to her or my father - I didn't want them to worry. Because she knows of the first incident, I'm certain she linked the blade to me (and it doesn't help that I'm the only one living here with her anymore). I'm so worried she'll call me out on it, and force counseling on me. I know she's worried and will only do it to help me, but I don't want her help. I don't want to admit that I need help.
And I don't want my mother to worry. More than anything I don't want her to worry. She's worried enough about me. I think I'm fine, I think everything's fine. I want her to understand I'm fine. And I know she won't.
I'm so upset right now. I don't know what to tell her when she brings it up, I don't know if she even will bring it up. I'm so so nervous.
This morning, as I was putting the finishing touches on my baklava, my mother called from the next room, "What's this razor blade doing here?"
No good. I guess I picked it up on my sock or something and it traveled downstairs with me (it's a tiny thing taken from a disposable razor; it travels easily).
This marks the second time my mother has found a blade of mine. The first time she forced me to go to one session of counseling because I refused to talk to her or my father - I didn't want them to worry. Because she knows of the first incident, I'm certain she linked the blade to me (and it doesn't help that I'm the only one living here with her anymore). I'm so worried she'll call me out on it, and force counseling on me. I know she's worried and will only do it to help me, but I don't want her help. I don't want to admit that I need help.
And I don't want my mother to worry. More than anything I don't want her to worry. She's worried enough about me. I think I'm fine, I think everything's fine. I want her to understand I'm fine. And I know she won't.
I'm so upset right now. I don't know what to tell her when she brings it up, I don't know if she even will bring it up. I'm so so nervous.
Unfortunately, we can't keep running and hiding from the world we live in. In this situation, I eventually had to fess up to my mom. You don't have to give her all the details, however. Those are your own to keep and distribute at your heart's desire.
You'd be surprised, but chances are she already knows. Mothers have a strange intuition, even if they seem clueless half of the time.
If she asks you to go to counseling, just go. Its a right old bore, but it really isn't that bad, and you're not obligated to tell them anything you feel uncomfortable saying.