Cutting has always been my release - my coping mechanism - my "friend." I don't remember how it started but I do remember how good it felt to release all of the pent up feelings of confusion and hurt and pain and numbness... the euphoric feeling immediately afterward was worth the scar it would leave.
I was around 14 or 15 when I started. I don't know how I heard of it, but the first time I ever hurt myself, I took a pair of cuticle cutters and snipped my skin all the way around my wrist. I had my own bloody bracelet. I felt better - relieved - and had something to show for it.
As time went on, I changed instruments from cuticle cutters to razor blades. If I couldn't find a razor blade, I would use anything else that was sharp. I even ventured into burning myself with an iron few times - that, however, is much more difficult to explain. You can only "land" on an iron so many times before people get suspicious.
When my cutting got really bad, a friend of mine stepped in and "required" me to get help. I trusted one person and she "helped' --- ie held the can while I went through some major mental vomiting! (cue the purple crayon!) ...
For some reason, anytime I've had to talk abot what has happened to me or what I was going through, I have always done it as if it were from someone else's perspective. I don't know that I have ever "owned" it and claimed it or accepted it as mine. Even the movies that play in my head are from someone else's viewpoint. hmmmm....
I have cut once in the past several years - I have a deep scar to show for it. It scared me a little - It wasn't a "surface scratch" (not that the others are but in comparison they are!) ... it was deep, clear into the fat layer of the skin cut.
Lately I have felt this urgency to cut return. It seems to surface when my life gets shaken up. My friendships change (although nothing has happened, I just feel abandoned), my job has changed, I've lost my father and a child unexpectedly - and things start to all around suck .... Cutting will make me feel better - hmmm... only temporarily. I have to keep telling myself that it isn't worth it.
I miss my dad - I miss my baby that I will never get to know - and I miss my mirror ... Guess it's just one of "those" days.