One cause that has always been dear and near to my heart other than the subject of abuse is the subject of self infliction.  Self infliction is something that many people don't really understand.  Usually when people find out that someone is a cutter, they are quick to judge them and treat them as an outcast, often labeling them as a freak.  They don't realize that there is a reason behind why a person self inflicts.  Instead of getting the story though and talking to the person about it, they just want to dismiss them and treat them as if they are different.  So those who self inflict hide the scars, not telling anyone about it.  I'm probably going to open myself up to a lot of judgment and criticism with sharing my own personal story with my battle with self infliction, but I believe it's something that needs to be shared.  I know that in the past when I have mentioned cutting, people wrote me and judged me on it.  However, I felt a need to write my own testimony to not only let others know about self infliction but also to encourage those who do battle with self infliction as well.


For almost 11 years I struggled with self infliction.  I was a teen when I started cutting.  Honestly, I don't even know where I picked up the habit or how I even developed it.  None of my friends were cutters, and if they were, they never mentioned iit or told me about it.  So it was not a habit that I developed from my peers.   All I know is that for me self infliction was a way to release the pain that I felt inside.  I just wanted to find a way to rid myself of all the emotional pain from the abuse I endured at home so I turned to cutting.  For me, it was better to feel physical pain and it kept my mind off it.  For a long time, I was able to hide it from my parents.  They didn't really pay that much attention to what was going on in my life so they had no idea that I was cutting myself.  However, they did in their own way help trigger it by some of the things they would tell me.  Sadly, my parents did not think that much of me and often I felt the sting from their rejection.  Too many times I heard how I was stupid, a mistake, delusional, mental, retarded, you name it.  Nothing positive was ever said about me.  The negative words replayed themselves in my mind over and over again.  I tried to live up to their expectations and be the perfect daughter, but every time I fell way short of their expectations and what they wanted me to be.

When I looked in the mirror, the only thing I saw was this broken, lost girl staring back.  One incident that clearly stands out in my mind was when my parents actually told me to kill myself.   I guess what's really sad is that it was all over a basketball game that I decided to skip because I was getting burned out playing basketball and with all the pressure put on me to be a great player, it just wasn't fun anymore.  I was only 13 years old and my parents thought that I was a rebellious child who was demon possessed.  I told them I didn't want to go to the game and they got upset with me.  I don't really remember what else was said during that fight or how it escalated, but I do remember that somewhere during that fight, I picked up a kitchen knife and threatened to end my life right there in front of them.  They didn't show concern or even try to take the knife from me.  Looking at me, they told me to go ahead and kill myself and that by doing that, I would just be doing them a favor.  Then they walked out of the kitchen, leaving me there sitting against the wall, contemplating whether I would go through with it or not.  That would be the first among many urges I would have about ending my own life.

I continued to self inflict, making sure that it was when they weren't around.  My parents continued to be in the dark about what was going on until I was in the 9th grade.  My 9th grade year, my parents decided to enroll me in a fancy, rich private Christian school.  One day I showed up at school with medical tape around my wrist from where I had cut myself.  When kids asked me what was wrong, I just lied and said that I cut myself on my locker.  Back in highschool, I used to wear this sweater to school to cover up the scars and cuts.  I think one of my teachers suspected something because one time she asked me why I wore the sweater all the time and told me it seemed that I was hiding something but she never pushed me for answers.  Well, I told one friend the truth about my self infliction habit, and the next thing I know I was called to the principal's office.  I had no clue what was going on until I saw my parents waiting outside his office.  As I walked by, they just kind of gave me this look.  The principal then told us all to come inside the office, and he told me that this girl in my class had told him that I was going around telling people I was going to commit suicide because I wanted to end my life.  He told my parents that if he received another report from anyone else about that, then he would expel me from the school.  You would think that my parents would have cared at that point and try to get me help, but they never questioned me about what was wrong.  Instead, as we got into the car and left the school, they informed me that I needed to quit doing that to get attention and that I was making them look bad as parents and ruining their reputation.  It wasn't about me; it was about their reputation.  They never bothered to get me help or talk to me about the habit.  As usual, they blamed me for making them look bad.

Through the following years, I continued to hurt myself.  Not only would I cut myself, but I would also try to OD.  I started drinking a lot as well to try to rid myself of the emotion pain I felt inside.  I did anything I could to try to forget about those bad memories but nothing worked.  It seemed that the more I hurt myself to try to block out the memories, the more pain I felt.  At first, when I would self inflict, I didn't do it to try to end my life.  That was not my thought at all.  I just wanted an escape, a temporary release from the emotion pain bottled inside.  But as I entered into the early stages of adulthood, I still carried with me those horrible memories and I had not yet allowed myself to start healing from my past.   I struggled with thoughts of suicide but still wouldn't tell anyone about what I was going through.  There was a brief period of time when I thought I had broken the habit for good and things started to get better for me until I entered an abusive marriage.

For 9 months I experienced abuse in my marriage, finding myself becoming a victim all over again.  I found myself going through the same things my mom had gone through with my father.  I endured so much physical, emotional and verbal abuse from my husband.  Just as I had not been good enough for my father, I wasn't good enough for him either.  The mean cruel words he said to me haunted me and stuck with me.  I would try to walk away from fights but he would follow me and put me down.  I am not going to make excuses for his abusive behavior nor am I going to attempt to look like I am completely innocent.  To be honest, I did let my anger take over me and fought back and even started fights after things he would say to me.  I think that anger is a very powerful emotion and when people have been abused before, it is normal for them to have these feelings of anger towards their abusers.  However, we have to learn to control our anger and not let it control us.  If we let it control us, then we become exactly like those who hurt us and find ourselves taking our anger and frustration out on the ones we care about and love.  

I allowed my anger to take over me instead of just walking away and running away for good.  I'm not saying that I started every fight because he did abuse me and he would let his anger control him.  In fact, after we separated and I asked him one day why he would choke me till I could hardly breathe, his response to it was that it was his way of trying to calm me down.  After the fights, I would lock myself in the bathroom, not daring to come out.  I would sit in the dark and once again start cutting myself because I thought I had hurt him and couldn't bear the thought of hurting another person even though he was the one hurting me.  Sometimes I would black out and a few hours later, wake up not knowing why or how I had gotten there.  He knew about my self infliction problem but just like my parents, he never got me help.  Instead, he watched me cut myself and even taped it on his cell phone or his digital camera.  I felt so miserable that I really wanted to just give up and end my life.  I lost sight of all my dreams and goals, letting them slip away.  I had nothing to hold onto and found my faith and hope fading.  I thought I had no way out.  The times I spent in the bathroom, cutting myself, part of me wanted to die but another part of me really wanted to live.  I remember sitting there, asking God to help me and asking Him why this was happening in my life.  During the times I called out to Him, the tears pouring down my face, I felt this calm feeling.   When I finally left my marriage, I took steps to stop self inflicting for good.

It has been several months since I last self inflicted.  I've taken the steps to break the habit, although I admit I still find myself getting urges to cut when I start feeling depressed or remembering things that I don't want to.  I know that my life is worth living and I know that I don't want to hurt myself any more because I know that nothing I went through was my fault.  It took me awhile to climb out of the darkness but I did find a way out.  When I find myself having those urges, I turn to some kind of outlet whether it be writing, listening to music, talking to a friend, or even going for a walk.  There are a few times that I have gone for a walk just to get out of the house and not think about cutting.  I'm gradually achieving victory in my life over self infliction.  It hasn't been easy, either.  Another thing that has helped me is getting involved with sites that are for self infliction awareness.  Two main sites that have helped me in my journey of recovering from self infliction are To Write Love On Her Arms and Letters of Love.  I wish those had been around when I was younger.  They have made all the difference in my life.

I know that self infliction is not an easy habit to break.  People don't understand that there are those who self inflict that really want to stop and don't want to keep hurting themselves.  I have talked to cutters who have told me they want to stop.  Like any other habit such as drinking or smoking, cutting is a habit that is hard to break.  There are some that don't think the habit can fully be broken and that one cannot ever fully recover from it.  I strongly disagree with that.  I believe that habits can be broken but I believe it takes time to fully break them and overcome them.  I also believe that when we do succeed in finally breaking the habit, we still face urges and temptations to go back to it.  So it is a battle that we must continue to fight even after we've quit.  It does take one step at a time and it's not something that you can just quit in one day.  But for those who self inflict, don't think that you are a bad person if you find yourself backsliding and slipping up when trying to stop.  When I was first starting to stop for good, I went days, weeks, and even months without cutting.  Then something would happen and I would find myself giving in and cutting again.  Don't be hard on yourself if that happens.  It doesn't make you a bad person.  What matters is that you are doing the best you can to not hurt yourself and to stop.  

I bear scars on my arms and my shoulders from where I cut.  I admit, I am very self conscious about those scars.  They do remind me of those dark times I faced.  But they also remind me of how far I have come in my life and how I have overcome that part of my life.  To me, my scars are a testimony to how much I have survived and endured in my own life.  Once I was on the brink of defeat, wanting to give up and throw my life away, but now I stand here today, speaking out and living my life to the fullest.  Your scars are a testimony to your survival in life.  People may look at the scars as being ugly and may think of me as a freak because I used to self inflict, but I see my scars as beautiful because not only do they tell my story of survival but underneath those scars is someone beautiful, someone who fought to survive and to stay alive.   Just because someone self inflicts does not make them a freak or a psycho.  Instead of judging those who self inflict, try to talk to them about it or let them talk to you about it.  Just like abuse survivors are not freaks but people, so are self inflictors.  We are all human beings who are beautiful and who have feelings too.  For those trying to stop self inflicting, just take it one step at a time.  Keep fighting to overcome it because you can overcome it and if you keep on finding other outlets to take your mind off it, in time you will find yourself completely breaking the habit.  It just takes time and determination.  When you have those urges, just find another way to release those emotions and feelings you have inside by writing, drawing, painting, sports, exercise, talking to a friend, etc.  But just know that you are a beautiful person and that life is worth living.  You're not alone in what you go through and there are many helpful sites out there that do help those battling with self infliction.