I never considered myself suicidal, I had no wish to die. All I wanted was to skip this stage of my life, the phase where you’re bored as hell and your parents piss you off.
That’s not much of a reason for self mutilation, but it works for a lot of people, myself included. I thought I was pretty happy, school was fine, my friends were fine, being anywhere away from home was fine. I wasn’t even in an abusive situation or anything, I just wasn’t happy at home. Coming home for me was like coming down from a badass trip. It just sucked. My mom blamed my “depression” on my dad’s alcoholism, though I never thought that was the reason, I still don’t. I fought with my mom over stupid shit, got really upset and stormed off to my room. I know that everyone has had that feeling where you feel like you’re going to implode upon yourself. You’re full of this screaming rage that has no exit, you want to throw things and break things, scream and cry. I would feel like that, break a disposable razor open and cut my wrists. I never slit them to the point of possible death, just enough to drain what I was feeling. It worked like a charm. After bleeding for a while, I quietly cleaned myself and layed down in my bed, calmness almost to the point of some kind of trance. I felt empty and it was great. My mom put me in therapy. I knew that the whole thing was hurting my family, watching the downward spiral of their first-born daughter, their pride and joy. I decided okay fine, I’ll just quit doing it. My mom didn’t want to drive me to cutting myself again, so when we fought she would listen to me, we would actually progress and work out the situation. I give no credit to my therapist, asking me how school was doesn’t exactly solve my problems. Anyway, a few months later I fell back in. I don’t even remember why now. I made the biggest scars I’ve got on that night, and we had an “emergency session” with my therapist. “What’s wrong, what happened?” “I didn’t ask to come here, I don’t need this.” “You need to talk about this, we’re all here to help you.” “Leave me alone, I don’t need this” “We want to help you through this” “I’m not talking anymore” etc…. That was the last time though. I realized that I have plans for my life, I want a career, I want a family. What the fuck do you tell your kids when they ask why mommy has scars all over her wrists? It was like I was walking along in my life, came to a bump in the road, tripped and then got back up, continuing on with my life. I mean come on, does it make since to just lay there? All I wanted to do here is put my story out. I’m not preaching, I’m not advising, I’m not venting. I’ll post something else soon. Something dark and twisted you guys’ll get off on. Till then….