Cutting

Today, my name is Diana. And I had a problem. Whenever I am sad, or whenever I am in a situation where I just cannot handle it, I will pick up a knife, and start cutting myself. Yes, I am a cutter. And this is my story.

As all stories start, I wasn't always like this. I was normal. Slightly odd maybe, but normal. The thing is, I'm sensitive. And I don't always take things the right way. Even if it was just a tease, or just a joke, I would be likely to take things the wrong way and start over thinking things. In the end, all that negative thoughts inside me needed an outlet to  be released. That's when I turned to cutting.

Many people ask me after, why cutting? How did it even help? To me, physical pain diverted my thoughts away from the mental pain I had accumulated over the years. With every cut, the slice of pain will distract me from thinking too much. With every drop of blood I spill, my brain is focused on my physical condition rather than my mental condition.

It went on for a number of years. Long sleeves hid my wounds. And when my arms had too many cuts, my legs and my back was next. At one point, the pain from the was wounds were so severe, I could not even lift my hands, let alone hold my books and pens. Wounds, so deep, they will take years for the scars to fade. None of my friends realized. And I faked my smile everyday, never telling...

I was just running away. What I was doing, it was wrong. And I knew it.

The pain was addicting. To draw the knife over my flesh again and again. To see my blood trail down and drip onto the ground. To sit there, so dazed from pain, that it leaves no room for any emotional instability to haunt me. Pain, sometimes so great, it was all I could think about. Those brief moments were my safe haven. A ward to fend of the thoughts that were slowly driving me crazy. You could say that it was like a drug to me. A drug that brought me on high that I couldn't get enough of.

Eventually, someone found out. Perhaps I did not bandage my wounds properly, or that somehow I must have strained the wound. But whichever the case, my blood started flowing freely, staining my clothes red. Of course I tried to hide, but a friend noticed right away, and was horrified. For some strange reason, I couldn't staunch the blood flow. My friend desperately tried as well. And seeing all the blood on his hands as well as my own, I lost it. Pain and fear gripped me. The physical pain that had comforted and distracted me before, became demons and lashed right back at me.

Mental and physical trauma. Both at the same time. I don't know when I stopped screaming, or when the shivering stopped. I don't remember anything. All I remember was the amount of blood everywhere, and how it all seems to press down on me. Of how my blood seems to curl around me to strangle me. Of how my blood dirtied everything it touched. I couldn't think of anything else. Couldn't see pass the blood and see my friends who were in panic. I totally snapped. Couldn't fight it anymore.

To be honest, I can't remember exactly what happened. I don't remember what made me stop. Maybe it was my friend's support. Maybe I just started to see right and wrong. A combination of both maybe, I don't know. But I stopped.

The healing process was painful. For the urge to stop cutting to fade. To share my problems instead of hiding it. Truth be told, till today, the urge to simply pick up a knife and cut myself is so strong, it takes all my self control not to. But I have friends now, companions, that help me fight that urge. To channel it to something better, more productive.

My name is Diana, and I have a message for you. If you are like me, I understand how you feel. I understand the need to distract the train of thoughts that torture us so. But I want to tell you this. Physical pain can only distract us for so long. To share it out, to find a friend who listens and helps. It works far better than slicing ourselves open. Only then can the healing of the mind begin. We have to stop running away.

I am better now. The urge to cut has not totally dissipated, but I am learning to control it now. I am happier and also a lot less conflicted. I found friends, and I know you can too.