Clench my teeth
brief sensation of pain
Wait for it to come
it takes a second
Bringing with it relief
here it comes
Pain flows out
trickling down my arm
In little red rivulets
so warm and wet
I have no problems
That cheery little poem is mine. Oh, it’s from many years ago. Back when I was still living with my parents, in fact. That last line? Is total crap. Yes, the blood brought relief of some feelings, but the guilt and anxiety that was left every time I looked at the scars….yeah, sometimes even THAT was enough of a trigger.
I’ve been pretty up-front about dealing with Postpartum Depression, Generalized Anxiety Disorder and major depressive disorder.
But, to add to the list of things that I don’t talk about, I’m also a cutter.
I probably ought to say “was”…..because I haven’t actually cut myself in years. But you know how some people say that they will always be a recovering alcoholic, and never recovered. It’s like that.
The urge to give in is there. It’s not my first reaction to bad news, anymore, but when I’m at my lowest, or most anxious, I still want to.
There are certain movies that I couldn’t watch all the way through for a long time, like Thirteen or Girl, Interrupted because they make me want to cut myself.
This is a big step for me. Other than my parents, one or two friends from way back then, and my husband and now half-the-freaking-internet, no one knows this. Come to think of it, I don’t know if I bother to tell my therapists. Yes, I know. I’m a horrible patient.
After I decided to stop, which wasn’t until I was pregnant with my first, AND it was totally selfish at first; too many doctor’s exams that required getting naked. I kept waiting to outgrow the feelings. You know, the way I outgrew angsty poetry, and emo-ish music? But I’m still waiting.
Still fighting.
Still coping.
Kinda.
too many doctor’s exams that required getting naked.”
I understand this completely… kind of like when bathing suit season rolls around.
But that’s what we’re here for – to listen to you vent and provide support, so come here when the impulses hit, and maybe we can help
i’m glad you felt you could share with us. i, too, am a cutter, and i agree that it’s like an addiction – you are always recovering, never recovered.
Hi there.
You’re not alone…I just needed you to know that. I cut from the time I was 5 until I was 34. In my mind, even though I no longer cut…I will always be a cutter…I will always have food and control issues…but I’ve developed ways to cope with those. Don’t get me wrong…I keep a razor in my desk…both at work and at home…it’s my “safety”…my knowing that I “can” make it all better, but up to me if I want to or not.
I’m 37 and I’m a cutter too.
I’m glad you wrote..I really am. Keep writing…you never know where it might take you.
’m so happy for you that it’s not your first reaction anymore. And thank you for writing this, it helps to know that even if the desire is still there you can fight it. Thank you.
You’re so brave to share this. Please keep sharing.
Sending you love and hugs.