Guest Post: Cutting From A Cutter's Point of View

This post is for those of you who really want to know what goes through the mind of one type of cutter. It's graphic and disturbing and contains profanity. In spite of that, I've chosen to post this not because it's been written by my daughter, but because I think it's important for parents and support people to get a glimpse of what's going on inside the head of this particular sort of self-injurer. This is not representative of all who cut, I've learned over the years there are many different reasons (I will add that I was one myself, and my reasons were very different). As a matter of fact, after talking to some other self-injurers, I found that there are those that believe Rachel's is not a valid "excuse," but please remember it's very real to her and others like her. I'd be happy to post any other sides to this multifaceted issue.

Rachel is 21, and has been diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder and Bipolar Disorder.  She's been struggling with mental illness for as long as I can remember. We've decided to have her write a guest post now and then. She's very open about her mental illness, and I think she'll be a good (albeit occasionally controversial) addition to the blog.
   

I no longer cut because I'm depressed. I cut because it's an addiction, a compulsion. I do still hate myself. I fucking DESPISE myself. Every fiber of my being from my mind to my body. Especially my body. When I was on the Latuda I was worse, not better. Since my OD I didn't refill the Latuda and I've been fine. But I cut because I wanted all these scars. I wanted to deform my body so no one would look at me. I wanted people to hate me, to be disgusted with me, as much as I am with myself. But at the same time I'm very self-conscious about my scars.

I have ugly red scars all up and down my legs. Very light pink ones up and down my arms. Yet I cannot cut deep enough. I cannot cut enough. I don't have enough scars. For me it's not about the bloodshed, it's about the scars and the pain, and the throbbing. I'm a masochist, I do enjoy pain and do get pleasure from it. I don't want to stop cutting, but I suppose that's what every addict says. I am an addict. Heh.

Hi, my name is Rachel and I'm an addict.

The last time I tried to stop cutting cold turkey I got 7 days before I started getting withdrawals. It eventually passed but it was still miserable. It's interesting to be addicted to something your body naturally produces. It will always be there. You won't ever build up a resistance to it because your body will automatically adjust itself. You'll never run out of it. You don't have to pay for it. It's fucking wonderful. It's the best feeling in the world. You giggle watching the blood droplets form. When I see those layers of flesh from cutting deep I get lightheaded but it's still so wonderful.

But I can never cut deep enough. I will admit that it has been for attention, it has been a “cry for help” at some points. But it's never been enough. I used to be embarrassed and shy about my scars and self-injury but I did want someone to ask about them. Now I laugh about it. I'm candid about it, I don't give a shit anymore. It's out in the open. People know I still do it and there's nothing they can do about it. I'm not going to stop because someone asks me to. I don't REALLY understand why it's bad for me. I only know it hurts other people. That was the only reason I would try to stop. But now I don't care anymore. Because if I can't stop for my own sake then stopping for other people is not the way to do it. I can't rely on other people to keep me under control. It's also strange to be triggered by your own scars. It's kind of unfortunate, really. You can't look at your own body without wanting to cut more.

After I got home from the hospital this last time I gathered up all my blades and utensils and walked them out with my mom to the trash compactor. But I forgot two blades in my bathroom. It was so hard to resist using them. Eventually I caved in and used them. I went to Wal Mart and got a new set.

It's been ten years. I can't see myself stopping anytime soon. I don't know if it's a good thing that at least it's not out of self-hatred and only because it's an addiction.

Hi, my name is Rachel, and I'm an addict.