It started when I was really young. I started writing suicide letters to my mother at the age of 5. Â Around age 7, I wasn’t very smart and I attempted to choke myself with my own hands not knowing it wouldn’t work. Around age 11, I took sleeping pills and then took a bath lying on my stomach, hoping I would drown as I slept. Since then I haven’t attempted suicide but I have frequently thought about it. I started cutting myself last year. I never ever cut deep because it scared me but I enjoyed the pain. I started cutting because I truly hated myself and thought of it as punishing myself. That year my father had also attempted to come back into my life, making things worse. When I was 3 he had molested me and my twin sister during a visitation. When he came back, my sister had started doing drugs, having sex , drinking, and wouldn’t go to school. Â My mom wouldn’t let her do any of these things so she purposely went to go live with my dad. I was forced into visitations and had several court dates. I tried telling CPS that I didn’t want to go, but they would not listen to a word I said. Eventually it all ended but he did successfully take my twin sister. That summer things got a little bit better. I found a group of friends and something that made me happy. Little did I know know that was going to crumble away as well. My mom started ignoring me more often and when she recognized me it was usually negative. I had to watch as all my younger siblings went out and got brand new things while I was wearing hand me down clothes and free clothes gotten from a supportive program. I wore shoes that were three years old a barely fit. They only ever bought me things that I absolutely had to have in order to keep CPS away. At this point I would do anything to stay away from home. My group of friends slowly fell apart, one person at a time until only three of us were left. The I moved to a different state. When I moved I had no friends and it seemed like no one here wanted anything to do with me. I was stuck at home all alone, watching ll my friends go out and enjoy their lives and then the cutting started up again. I decided I would tell my friends about my cutting because I need some kind of support and I figured I could get it from them. I was wrong. They linked me a video on Facebook about a guy making fun of cutters. Then one of them proceeded to tell me that I only did it for attention. She then told me to go fuck myself and there went the last two of my friends. For weeks all I did was cry and cut myself. I slowly lost even more friends. More and more people started picking on me for being depressed and for cutting. I managed to build up enough strength and went a whole month without cutting. Later that week however things went downhill again and it started all over again. I have never felt so alone in my entire life. I still dont have any friends here in my home and all my other friends have left me. I cant help but blame myself. I have asked my mom so many time to get me a psychologist. I wanted to get tested for anxiety, OCD, and depression. However she wouldn’t listen to me. Â When I finally got through to her and she called someone, they told her I cant have a psychologist unless I go through a few years of therapy. I had already been through therapy before and all they did was told me I was wrong, told my mom all my secrets, and forced me to take pills that never work. I refused so I wont ever be getting psychological help I guess. I want to tell my mom about my cutting but when my twin sister had started cutting, my mom called her out of control. She was forced to go to several mental hospitals and my mom wouldnt let her do anything at all. Im so scared thats gonna happen to me. The only thing that has kept me from killing myself is probably youtube. All my favorite youtubers are probably the only reason why im still here. If they send me away to some hospital and label me as out of control then I wont be able to have my youtubers and Im positive ill go crazy. The internet is my only route of escape and without it I dont know what id do. All I want is to have people support me and love me but i have no one.
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2 comments
You are not alone <3.
We have shared similar paths that led us both to this website.
“I had already been through therapy before and all they did was told me I was wrong, told my mom all my secrets, and forced me to take pills that never work.”
Well… were you wrong? Think about it.
And if you KNOW you’re NOT wrong… then you need to go over that therapist’s head, to their superior, and be adamant about demanding a different therapist who actually knows what they’re doing. Challenge them, explain why their conclusion of “you’re wrong,” is incorrect. If you know you’re right, insist, and do not allow them to tell you otherwise. That therapist is employed by an organization who can surely provide you with another therapist, should the previous one not meet the requirement of understanding your problems well enough to actually provide “therapy.” If they want a reason, you can always fall back on “some people are just incompatible, and this person is not going to help me.”
But then again, you’re still pretty young, and it’s pretty likely that you’ll actually be wrong sometimes. So before you go stomping your feet and shouting, stop and think, and carefully consider whether you are actually right or wrong, about any particular issue. And again, if you know you’re right, and someone is insisting otherwise, they are either pushing an agenda, or they are missing important information to allow them to understand why you are correct.
Sometimes even a seemingly tiny bit of information can radically change the interpretation of a scenario.
Meanwhile, stop cutting. It’s not solving the problems, and you’ll regret your scars. It’s difficult enough to feel comfortable in your own skin… and every scar you add to that difficulty is going to haunt you for the rest of your life, and you will struggle to feel good about your appearance, and you will fear the social repercussions of your own self-harm, because you will realize, at some point, that people will react in a rather upsetting way that will not make you feel good, when and if they see those scars. It doesn’t mean you’re a bad person, but they don’t know how to deal with it, and this will be a source of anxiety for you in the future. Stop it. For your own good, stop it. Find something else that doesn’t leave visually identifiable stigma-attractors. Social stigmas are the last thing you need when trying to battle depression and a life full of unfairness.