I first attempted self-harm when I was in college. It was my sophomore year, and I had problems academically, with my mom, my friends, and my love life. I didn't know how to cope except by drinking.When I got home after another night of drunkenness, my mother slapped me around and said she wished she had aborted me when she had the chance.
That night, I started weeping uncontrollably and took a cutter to my wrist. It wasn't very deep and I didn't draw any blood.
I never attempted it again until this year. This year, I lost a promotion, was miserable at my job, broke up with my boyfriend, and got my iPhone stolen. I bought a shiny new cutter especially for self-harm. Ritualistically, I started cutting every other day, each time a little deeper and a little bit longer as I got used to the pain.
Eventually, I had a Silver Linings Playbook strategy: every time I wanted to cut, I would text my best friend about a happy memory. But just this week, I ran out of happy memories, so I broke my streak and started slicing again with the sharp end of my tweezers. My mom may have taken my cutter, but I still found a way to self-harm. And I'm thinking of buying another cutter and keeping in hidden away.
My current lover is right - I abuse my privacy. I now understand why my mom prefers that I keep my door open.
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