I haven't told my story to many. In fact, I don't think I've ever really told my story to anyone, except J. It's hard for me to type these words and it's hard for me to have it written here in front of me, and to have everything so real, so final. Once words are said, they can't be taken back. So with that...I'll start here.
I won't reveal my age, because usually I am looked at with wide eyes. But I will say that I am young, and in highschool. So maybe that gives it away, maybe not.
From the outside looking in, I am a normal teen. But that's at first glance. Take a closer look and you'll notice many scars on my arms, legs, and stomach. You see, I have been a self-injurer for over a year now. If you're a self-injurer yourself I'm sure that you can relate. If you know someone who is a 'cutter' I ask that before you go any further you take the time to cast away your judgements, and try and understand, and if you're not capable of that, be open-minded.
I started cutting after I was taken from my parents last year right around easter. I had to stay with an aunt in Raleigh because my dad had been hitting me and he left bruises on my face. I called my aunt in tears with threats of suicide because I had finally had enough. Admiting to her that there was some sort of problem at all was the first step. It was the first time anyone realized I had a problem period.
I was very depressed, and had been for years, I was just never diagnosed. I had been suffering from bulimia for two years and had been in a harmful relationship for about 2 and a half.
After my stay in Raliegh I went back home, back to my family and sunk farther and farther into depression. I started seeing a therapist who took me out of school and put me on medication. After a short time I quit taking the meds because I felt they altered who I was too much. I sunk deeper than ever before. I managed to pass all my classes, barely. That summer I spent all day in my room, with the windows all covered. I wrote sad poetry and wondered how in the world God could be so cruel to me. I have been raised in a very srict Christian home and my whole life God was portrayed as this wonderful holy man who helped all people and didn't like bad people. Where was God now?
My family decided to take a vacation, and while away I was raped. this was a major setback to any progress I may have been making was useless, helpless, much like I felt I was to the world.
School started back again and to the world I seemed better. Still no one at school talked to me, which wasn;t unusual because I have a total of about 5 freinds at all and the rest of the school called me a whore and slut. I got back together with my boyfreind of three years and we had sex for the first time on August 8, 2003. I miscarried with our child 5 weeks later. This only brought me down farther. I had suffered many suicide attempts before but I had never had the urge to die like this before. I had no love, no support, no anything from anyone. I had lost anything and everything that meant anything to me. Where was I to go.
Something kept me going a little longer. I met a new guy and things seemed to go well, but we broke up and alone I was again. I cried myself to sleep at night and was unable to go a day without cutting myself. Christmas came and went but there was no Christ in it for me.
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