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.
New to the group and I just wanted to share my story.
I first cut myself when I was 11 years old. I was bullied really badly in school. I came from a poor family, had asthma, wore glasses, didn't fit in with the other girls and I was quiet. On top of a rubbish school life, my mother was and is still very emotionally abusive towards me especially. It's no secret that she prefers boys, because girls are only on this earth for one thing in her eyes...
My first few cuts where on my left shoulder, so they were hidden just beneath the sleeve of my summer school dress. I broke apart one of the cheap plastic razors in the bathroom and hid the tiny blade on one of the top shelves for another time.
Someone noticed my shoulder when we had swimming during PE which brought up my first lie of falling through a plain of glass. It didn't matter. The bullying became worse and so did my cuts. I stole a box cutter blade from the art room and cut my legs whenever I needed to. I never wore summer dresses or any kind of dress again after this, so no one noticed again.
At 14 years old I was cutting my legs, thighs and arms just to take away the pain of my everyday life. I never did any major damage until I hit a vein in my thigh on a particularly bad day with my mother. My Dad used to be a vet (as in animal doctor) so he was there to quickly tend to my wound. We had no relationship at all. He was my Dad, but that was it. He couldn't relate to me because I was a girl which was really hurtful as I have 2 brothers who he related to perfectly fine. He obviously never said anything to my Mum as she never said a word about it.
When my Dad died when I was 16 of lung cancer, my cutting became even worse. My pain was focused on my legs. I didn't talk to anyone and I started using over the counter pain killers to numb the pain a little more.
By the time I was 18, I was working at the company where my Dad used to work. I worked in the post room, full access to a box cutter all day and plenty of time alone. The cutting wasn't as bad as it was in school and I found a better way to hide it. I worked with paper all the time, so I cut my fingers and hands, hiding it as hazards of the job.
I had never seen a shrink of any kind to help me with this problem, but when I was 19 I caught this documentary on TV about animal therapy. I didn't think it would work for me, but I decided to adopt 2 cats. People on the show even stated that the animals provided them with unconditional love that they had never felt before. After a while I found that my cutting didn't go away, but I wasn't doing it as much. Sometimes instead of cutting I actually started to cry as I hugged my beautiful little kitty.
This was huge for me as I hadn't cried in years.
I managed to stop the pain killer abuse as well without even realising it. By 22, I started to feel a little bit more like a human being again and not a punch bag full of pain. I cut maybe once a month during this time, switching the box cutter for one of the disposable razor blades in my bathroom.
Both of my legs are covered in thick scars from the ankle to just above the knee. My shoulders just beneath the t-shirt line are more and my lower arms have a few much less noticeable scars.
A colleague at work who also happens to be friends with my mother noticed these scars for the first time when I was 22 and she ran back to mother to tell her as if it was the latest piece of juicy gossip. That was it, my mother was furious with me. I still find it hard to believe that this was the first time she had ever noticed them, but maybe she really is that blind. A lot of you might be thinking what was I still doing living with her at 22 anyway, well on top of self harming, I also developed agoraphobia. Other than going to work, I spent the rest of my life in the safety of my house. I could not leave even if I wanted to as my anxiety of going outside always held me back.
Anyway, the first thing my mother said to me after this little discussion with her friend was 'How do you think this makes me look as a mother?' I think that hurt most of all. She didn't care that I was hurting or cutting myself, yet again it was all about her and how she looked to other people. She then went on to tell everyone she knew, including my brothers at home who apparently didn't know either, even though I shared a room with one of them until I was 16 years old!
My older brother took it the worse, calling me names, telling me that I should just die already if that's what I really wanted. They all chalked it up to me acting out for attention after our father died. And of course I never said a word, because I don't talk. They still probably think that now actually.
I was then dragged kicking and screaming to a hospital shrink that couldn't give a crap about me. He could never remember my name, didn't really listen and everything he said sounded like he was blaming me that it had all got this bad. I wanted to ditch him so my mother blackmailed me into saying 'I would never do it again' on the condition that I didn't have to see him again.
Said it, left, went back to cutting discreetly again.
The one thing he did teach me was that I had to take control of my emotions and find other methods of releasing that pain. So for the first time, I decided to look up self harming online. I found mountains of advise, chat rooms and home self help methods. Working in a post room, I had lots of access to rubber bands, so I started using this recommended method of an alternative to cutting.
They take quite a few pings against your wrist from a great distance to have the same effect as cutting did, but they really helped me. I went 4 whole months without a single cut. After nearly 10 years of cutting practically every day, this was a huge improvement to me. I have also tried the ice cube method. You hold an ice cube in your palm rather than cutting which is an okay method, but the sharp pain in my palm was never enough to settle my anxiety.
Another method I have discovered over the years is whenever I feel the urge to cut, I plug in the headphones and crank the music up to a volume that blocks out any thoughts. I focus on the lyrics or the beat of the music rather than the thought of wanting to cut.
I am now 26 years old and I haven't used a razor blade, box cutter, kitchen knife, broken glass or anything sharp for 3 years now. I used to wear a rubber band around my wrist every day, but now I just keep it in a drawer nearby and it hasn't been used in a long while. And I still have my 2 cats who live up to their job of putting a smile on my face every day.
Unfortunately, I still live at home with Mum though. Haven't been able to self-help on the agoraphobia front just yet, but I have learned to ignore her hurtful words that would have driven me to cut before.
I wouldn't say I'm cured, but I have it under control.
My goal for this year is to move out of this toxic environment.
I first cut myself when I was 11 years old. I was bullied really badly in school. I came from a poor family, had asthma, wore glasses, didn't fit in with the other girls and I was quiet. On top of a rubbish school life, my mother was and is still very emotionally abusive towards me especially. It's no secret that she prefers boys, because girls are only on this earth for one thing in her eyes...
My first few cuts where on my left shoulder, so they were hidden just beneath the sleeve of my summer school dress. I broke apart one of the cheap plastic razors in the bathroom and hid the tiny blade on one of the top shelves for another time.
Someone noticed my shoulder when we had swimming during PE which brought up my first lie of falling through a plain of glass. It didn't matter. The bullying became worse and so did my cuts. I stole a box cutter blade from the art room and cut my legs whenever I needed to. I never wore summer dresses or any kind of dress again after this, so no one noticed again.
At 14 years old I was cutting my legs, thighs and arms just to take away the pain of my everyday life. I never did any major damage until I hit a vein in my thigh on a particularly bad day with my mother. My Dad used to be a vet (as in animal doctor) so he was there to quickly tend to my wound. We had no relationship at all. He was my Dad, but that was it. He couldn't relate to me because I was a girl which was really hurtful as I have 2 brothers who he related to perfectly fine. He obviously never said anything to my Mum as she never said a word about it.
When my Dad died when I was 16 of lung cancer, my cutting became even worse. My pain was focused on my legs. I didn't talk to anyone and I started using over the counter pain killers to numb the pain a little more.
By the time I was 18, I was working at the company where my Dad used to work. I worked in the post room, full access to a box cutter all day and plenty of time alone. The cutting wasn't as bad as it was in school and I found a better way to hide it. I worked with paper all the time, so I cut my fingers and hands, hiding it as hazards of the job.
I had never seen a shrink of any kind to help me with this problem, but when I was 19 I caught this documentary on TV about animal therapy. I didn't think it would work for me, but I decided to adopt 2 cats. People on the show even stated that the animals provided them with unconditional love that they had never felt before. After a while I found that my cutting didn't go away, but I wasn't doing it as much. Sometimes instead of cutting I actually started to cry as I hugged my beautiful little kitty.
This was huge for me as I hadn't cried in years.
I managed to stop the pain killer abuse as well without even realising it. By 22, I started to feel a little bit more like a human being again and not a punch bag full of pain. I cut maybe once a month during this time, switching the box cutter for one of the disposable razor blades in my bathroom.
Both of my legs are covered in thick scars from the ankle to just above the knee. My shoulders just beneath the t-shirt line are more and my lower arms have a few much less noticeable scars.
A colleague at work who also happens to be friends with my mother noticed these scars for the first time when I was 22 and she ran back to mother to tell her as if it was the latest piece of juicy gossip. That was it, my mother was furious with me. I still find it hard to believe that this was the first time she had ever noticed them, but maybe she really is that blind. A lot of you might be thinking what was I still doing living with her at 22 anyway, well on top of self harming, I also developed agoraphobia. Other than going to work, I spent the rest of my life in the safety of my house. I could not leave even if I wanted to as my anxiety of going outside always held me back.
Anyway, the first thing my mother said to me after this little discussion with her friend was 'How do you think this makes me look as a mother?' I think that hurt most of all. She didn't care that I was hurting or cutting myself, yet again it was all about her and how she looked to other people. She then went on to tell everyone she knew, including my brothers at home who apparently didn't know either, even though I shared a room with one of them until I was 16 years old!
My older brother took it the worse, calling me names, telling me that I should just die already if that's what I really wanted. They all chalked it up to me acting out for attention after our father died. And of course I never said a word, because I don't talk. They still probably think that now actually.
I was then dragged kicking and screaming to a hospital shrink that couldn't give a crap about me. He could never remember my name, didn't really listen and everything he said sounded like he was blaming me that it had all got this bad. I wanted to ditch him so my mother blackmailed me into saying 'I would never do it again' on the condition that I didn't have to see him again.
Said it, left, went back to cutting discreetly again.
The one thing he did teach me was that I had to take control of my emotions and find other methods of releasing that pain. So for the first time, I decided to look up self harming online. I found mountains of advise, chat rooms and home self help methods. Working in a post room, I had lots of access to rubber bands, so I started using this recommended method of an alternative to cutting.
They take quite a few pings against your wrist from a great distance to have the same effect as cutting did, but they really helped me. I went 4 whole months without a single cut. After nearly 10 years of cutting practically every day, this was a huge improvement to me. I have also tried the ice cube method. You hold an ice cube in your palm rather than cutting which is an okay method, but the sharp pain in my palm was never enough to settle my anxiety.
Another method I have discovered over the years is whenever I feel the urge to cut, I plug in the headphones and crank the music up to a volume that blocks out any thoughts. I focus on the lyrics or the beat of the music rather than the thought of wanting to cut.
I am now 26 years old and I haven't used a razor blade, box cutter, kitchen knife, broken glass or anything sharp for 3 years now. I used to wear a rubber band around my wrist every day, but now I just keep it in a drawer nearby and it hasn't been used in a long while. And I still have my 2 cats who live up to their job of putting a smile on my face every day.
Unfortunately, I still live at home with Mum though. Haven't been able to self-help on the agoraphobia front just yet, but I have learned to ignore her hurtful words that would have driven me to cut before.
I wouldn't say I'm cured, but I have it under control.
My goal for this year is to move out of this toxic environment.
3 years later and everyone in my family seems to have forgotten about my cutting as if it never happened. I have one friend that I talk to online regularly, but she's not a cutter, so she's never really got it. I joined Daily Strength to help me with my fear of going outside and discovered this group. So if anyone needs someone to talk to, feel free to message me. I would love to hear your stories or try my best to help you with your struggles.