I’ve read so many of the stories on here, and I feel that I should write mine, too. Although it isn’t as bad as others, it got me where I am.
Two years ago, my friend confessed to cutting herself. I was devastated, and all I wanted was to be there for her. I didn’t want her to do it anymore, I wanted her to be okay. So I stayed up late for her, and I was her personal therapist for a while. This was when i was 12 years old.
My mum fell pregnant and I cried for the whole weekend. I was already neglected and ignored in the home, so why add someone else in the picture? I’d fall off the edge of the frame. That night I got in the shower and thought back to my friend, the razor screaming at me. I was so angry so I grabbed it and ran it across my wrist.
It was all up my arm and I felt so bad. So guilty. My life wasn’t bad, it was great! I had friends and I had family. Why did I do this to myself? I got out, got dressed and cried in my room. My mum came in and I told her because the guilt was stabbing me. She shook her head at me and stormed out, disgusted and disappointed.
After that, the cutting got easier and I soon felt absolutely nothing after every slit. My mum had her boyfriend who she loved, my sister was perfect and mum and Mark adored her. I was ignored, and the issue was never brought up again.
I told the friend who cut, that I cut myself. She shouted, she lashed out and she told me that I was aÂ fucking idiot.Â
That caused me to go in the shower and cut myself, again. I had bracelets for school, and I put makeup over the wounds. Nobody suspected a thing.
Now 13, I got my hair cut off and so it was a boyish style. I loved it, I did! I did have long and (dyed) bright red hair, but i asked the hairdresser to change it to brown again. The boys started pointing and laughing, making comments and shutting me down. My confidence soon decreased into dust. By the summer holidays, I wouldn’t leave the house. Not even to go to the shops for my mum. Â I didn’t want to be seen.
Being a mother, she would press and poke at me to go out and be with my friends but I snapped and told her to leave me alone. I wanted to be alone.
This was when I began to think of suicide. I didn’t have anyone, not really. They were there but they didn’t really give a shit about me.
My baby brother was born and I fell in love with him. He’s so precious, and happy. That makes me cry alot, that he’s so happy. I don’t know if they’re tears of happiness, or bitterness. I used to be so like him. He’s so innocent looking, big blue eyes and white-blonde hair. I stopped cutting because he liked to play with my bracelets and so he’d see the cuts. Obviously as a child he wouldn’t understand them, but I was still ashamed that he saw them.
When I was almost 14, my dad’s wife left him. She was a big part of my life, I saw her as a big sister and she left. I’ve discovered that alot of people I love, leave. Dad was emotionally abusive to her and she had enough. I’d had enough, too. But I wasn’t allowed to stop seeing him because he owed my mum money.
Because of her leaving he picked on me instead. I’m now convinced that I’mÂ ugly, stupid, worthless and a no good *****.Â
It made me cut more, but this time on my thighs. So my brother wouldn’t see. I fell back into the black abyss that I had almost climbed out of, and all failed.
I’m now Â 14, and it’s just been the summer holidays. Again I barely ever went out, only if I really needed to. I’ve become invisible to my friends, my mum still ignores me, my sister tells me I’m useless, my dad continues to abuse me mentally, and nobody cares.
Nobody expect my little brother. Who is now 1, and so big and beautiful. He’s the reason I’m living, and as much as I want to die, he’s the one I’m going to live for. I hope I’m strong enough to do that.