A Look Inside The Mind Of A Cutter (Long, but informative)

[persephone325]

March is national Self-Harm Awareness Month.

I will be adding this image into my signature for the month. If anyone else would like to do so, please feel free.

[persephone325]

Agh... I hate falling back into this habit again.

I feel like nobody understands. Not even my family. I wouldn't expect them to, but my mom has really bad depression as well. But she has the nerve to tell me that I'm faking... I would NEVER fake anything as serious as mental illnesses. I just want to punch her in her dumb face.

So, I've fallen off the wagon again. Looks like I'm back to square one, again.

I can't seem to take any medication that I used to, because I'm suffering all the adverse side effects of everything I take. Even at the absolute lowest dose the psychiatrist gives me. Nausea, vomiting, chills, dizziness, restlessness, the whole spiel.

I'm sick of the stress. Real life AND on the internet. It's so easy for people to forget that there's a real fucking flesh and blood person on the other side the computer. People blow little things out of proportion and cause a scene, and it's really unnecessary. It just adds to the stress.

I feel like I'm just being tested, and people want me to break. They just want to see me ready to just...leave everything. All I want to do is throw my hands up and say, "You win. Just...leave me be. You fucking win." But I can't. So I just end up bottling everything and breaking down when the littlest thing stresses me out. That's when I end up crying, and wishing I wasn't here anymore.

I honestly feel like things would be better if I weren't around. But I feel like even when I tell people that, they just brush it off as me overreacting. I truly feel like nobody understands what I mean when I say that.

All I want is for people to understand... But I feel like nobody ever will, and that just frustrates me to the point where I just want to curl up in a ball until the world forgets about me.

[Rogue]

*curls up with Seph into a little ball until she feels okay again, at least for a little while.*

[persephone325]

I wasn't sure I would ever come back to this thread, but here I am.

I've come a long way. Many years have passed since I made this thread and it's been a bumpy road - filled with potholes and sections of the road completely missing. lol But I'm still here. A lot of things have changed in my life.

My mother passed away... (Back in 2019.) That was (and still is) a big issue to deal with. She was a large part of my need to self-harm because of the way she treated and talked to me. Now, my dad can be a bit of a trigger, just because he's not a very empathetic person and has that military "suck it up" mentality. However, I believe the last time I hurt myself was sometime in 2020.

I moved in with my father not long before my mother passed. I carry immense guilt for leaving her the way I did. Side note: if any of you have seen the movie Smile, my situation was almost exactly the same as what happened with Rose and her mom - just a difference in age. I'm still going to therapy and trying my best to realize that her death wasn't my fault. Even typing that sentence was hard for me and I have tears in my eyes. I miss her so much and I just want to hug her. I just want to hear her say she loves me...

Things are alright in other aspects. Dad got remarried and my stepmom really loves my brother and me. We're more homebodies and her older daughter is on her own and her younger daughter is barely at home, so they don't get to do a lot of things together. She likes that the four of us can go to movies and do stuff.

My boyfriend is very supportive, despite the fact that we're in a long-distance relationship. That has its own struggles, but we manage. We do our best to make sure we communicate openly and let the other one know when something is bothering us.

Anyway, things seem to be OK. When stressful things happen now, my first thought isn't to reach for my "cutting box" anymore. There are usually still a lot of tears (I will never apologize for being an emotional woman. Adults can still cry, dad. lol) but I try to find someone to confide in. It's usually the boyfriend and he's very patient and understanding. The phantom pains in my wrists and forearms, though... They can really put a damper on my day/mood - especially when they're rather painful.

My plan for the new year is to keep going to therapy and get back on medication. Even though I'm not turning to self-harm anymore, I'm still having incredibly debilitating bouts of depression. The kind where all you do is lay in bed and sleep and cry for seemingly no reason - barely eat or shower. It sucks and I don't particularly enjoy that feeling.

I don't think I have such a bleak outlook as I did years ago when I would fall back into that habit. I'm not ashamed of my scars. I see them as reminders of what I've been through and I'm still here despite it.

Things will continue to be better, and I try to remind myself of that each day. Even when bad and stressful things happen, things won't stay awful forever.

[Greenthorn]

I am sorry, but not really, for reviving this subject. I normally stay away from blogs but woke up super early and do not have enough focus to work on posts... so I landed here.


I am also a self-harmer. I have many deep scars down my left forearm but luckily, I have light freckles that tend to camouflage them. I have not cut for over twenty years.


My father was an abusive, schizophrenic, alcoholic abuser and my childhood was spent listening to my mother being beat up and dodging the occasional shotgun blast, to watching my father try to slice open his own throat to punish me. My worst cut was on the underside of my forearm and I still carry a very visible scar there. That was my "cry for help" cut and brought me to being committed for 72 hours, but it was not my last cut or my worst method of self-harm. My worst was stabbing my own hand with a steak knife and that one felt the best because I was able to put so much anger into the force of it. My last actual cut (and I also dismantled razors) was some time after the stab and when I realized I needed to stop.


I cut myself because I could not control what was happening around me and that made me angry at myself. I felt like I should be able to do something. It was never a helpless feeling, it was a punishment for not being able to fix things, make things okay, make life better for people around me.


I started to take control of everything in my life. I became the impenetrable force between the bad in the world and my loved ones. I became the "rock" for my friends and family, taking on all responsibility of fixing them and making their lives as easy or as improved as I could. I became an absolute control freak, super assertive, super focused, super in tune with the emotions of anyone who I considered  a friend or a family member.


For years, it worked well. I could see positive effects I had on people, it felt nice... it feels nice... until it does not. At some point I started to realize that when you take the position of "front-runner", you're the first to get burned by life's fires, and everyone you're protecting can easily escape while you burn and no one is going to come to your rescue because you chose your role. The best example is my brother right now. I am taking on the role of full-time caregiver for my mom and allowing my brother to just sit back and assume I can handle it all on my own... I cannot, but to keep my control, I will anyway.


In essence, I am still self-harming, but in a very different way and I do not recommend my chosen path. The pain from cuts eventually wears off, the pain from a depleting emotional/mental reserve never stops.


Getting help for cutting didn't help me, nor did stopping on my own. One thing that does and is helping, is beginning to share my own weaknesses with others, even when I feel it makes me "less than" in my own mind.


I fully encourage anyone who cuts to seek professional help. We are all different and although it did not work for me, there is a huge possibility it could work for you. In the very least, tell someone who cares about you and give them some of your burden.