There is so much confusion around the addiction of cutting. It's hard for some people to understand why you, or someone you know, would repeatedly harm themselves on purpose. I want to break through the confusion and help those who practice cutting as a way of life. I've heard a lot of people say, why would anyone do such a thing as purposely cause pain to their bodies? So, let's begin to uncover the reasons why so many people cut themselves.
Most People Cut to Cover an Even Deeper Emotional Pain
As I have talked with hundreds of people that self-harm, one major reason emerges over and over again: Most people cut themselves to try to cope with an even deeper emotional pain. If you or anybody you know is cutting, please understand cutting is a way of covering something much deeper and painful going on inside.
Cover Self-Hate
An anonymous blogger put it this way: I used to cut because I felt like it was the only way to feel something other than the hurt and confusion and self-hate that was driving me insane. I would cut because I hated myself so much that I wanted to tear myself to pieces.
Cover Past Trauma
Most cutters' ability to cope with life is overwhelmed by powerful emotions or extreme pressure that seem too intense to bear. Jenessa said she's been a cutter for 7 years. I was sexually abused by someone very close to me. I started cutting because I always thought that what happened was my fault. I have never gotten over it, so I used to cope with any problem I had by cutting. Taking it out on myself was so much easier than figuring out what to do emotionally.
Can't Express Emotional Pain
When these emotions aren't dealt with, tension builds up. Cutting can feel like a release of this tension. Rachel said cutting is a way for her to deal with her pain: It's an escape from reality. No matter how temporary it is it's a relief to escape all the pain.
Most cutters struggle to express their pain to others. Without the words or outlet to express their emotional pain, they give into a short cut, a destructive physical expression toward themself. Laken said cutting is her first reaction when she feels disappointment or difficulty. When I fail a test, when I get in a fight, when I am called a mean name, or when anything bad happens the first thought is to cut. It is horrible and I always fall back on it.
The physical pain has a calming effect on her more agonizing emotional pain. Cutting is the treating of one pain with another. A cutter's life is one of the choices between one kind of pain or a much greater one. Amy said: It feels good when you have physical pain to take away from your emotional pain.
Avoid Dealing with Deep Feelings
The problem with self-injury as with any addiction, is that by harming yourself you never really are able to confront your deepest feelings. Perhaps that is you. You are using cutting to try to cope with an even deeper emotional pain. It is hard to say no to something that feels so good. But in the end, cutting will fail you every time.
Don't lose hope. There are healthy ways to deal with your emotions and to stop cutting for good. Check out these helpful resources on self-harm from TheHopeLine.
If you or someone you know is struggling with self-harm, check out TheHopeLine's free eBook.
You sound like a really caring friend. We have some practical suggestions on this blog for how to help a friend - http://www.thehopeline.com/help-my-friend-is-cutting/
Also, you can chat with a HopeCoach anytime 24/7 for advice. http://www.thehopeline.com/gethelp/
I am new to this. I have a child that cuts and I am trying to get a better understanding of what is going on. Can anyone please help she'd some light on this for me.
Hi I have a friend name rebecca and she cuts herself because her parents beat her and she get bullied alot in scholl . Wat can I do as a friend to help her with this problem? ??plzzzzzzz answer quick cuz she text me and she text me and she is through with life and she just wants to dieat because she can't take the pain no more 💯💯💯
I'm a 15 yr old cutter, i started when i was 13. I think the reason why i cut is the reason most do to escape the emotional pain, I have major self esteem problems. and my family only makes it worse my mum gets disappointed with me she always tells me to be smarter more athletic like my sister and brother shes always comparing me to them. my dad on the other hand ignores my whole family. He dosnt care. He always forgets my birthday and rarely speaks to me. i feel like such a disappointment. I've considered killing myself so many times, but thankfully i have some of the best friends in the world. One of my best friends is a cutter like me and it really helps to talk to her. my other best friend has cut before but dosnt do it as much. But the difference between me and them is that there family's know they cut and mine still don't know. I've been sent to see the school councilor before, because someone reported me in for self harm. But i really didn't want anyone finding out so i lied and i must of been pretty convincing because they didnt ask to see me again. I've thought about getting help but i'm so scared. i was even frightened to write this i'm not really sure why. i guess i'm scared of being judged. I want to stop cutting but at the same time i dont. If that makes any sense. Its funny really my friends are the ones who talk to me about there issues and im always there for them i tell them to get help but i wont its weird. i just want them to be ok. and when they tell me to get help i ignore it. i'm just afriad of facing my problems. cutting is like my drug and if its taken away i dint know what i would do. if you took the time to read this thank you.
This is a very descriptive story of my person experience. Ive posted it to help me get my feelings out... But I hope it can help you too. Whether you're researching or feeling helpless.
Relapse.
I cut once in high school. I think I could probably call it my first bout of depression. It wasn't a single quick decision. I had sat by myself, holding a knife, staring at my wrist and just bawling my eyes out more than ten times. One day I just thought, what the hell, maybe it'll help me. This did NOT make any sense, and I knew it. But the seemingly endless, gut-wrenching emotional pain was enveloping me. I felt like I couldn't breathe anymore.
I should mention that mental illness runs in my family. Depression, anxiety, being bi-polar, and all the "azepam" drugs had been a normalcy in my household... Along with the constant roller coaster of emotions from a parent. Being yelled at or "spoken to like we werent people" (how I've recently come to describe it) happened frequently... Always followed almost immediately with a sincere and heartfelt apology, big hugs and the most genuine "I love you". Of course since my brother and I grew up in this environment it seemed completely normal. It still does. Just trying to fight back a bit now. When I first talked to my mother about my feelings of depression when I was 15 she took it seriously and much like her routine, we booked a doctor's appointment. I remember the day in my English class when the teacher started making fun of Prozak; the anti-depressant that was hidden in my bedside table at home. The embarrassment I felt made me throw the box away and go back to trying to deal with things on my own. It was a few years later when I was 17 and actually cut. I cut low on my arm twice. Toward my elbow and underneath enough that I though it could be hidden until it healed and no one would be the wiser... But I was wrong. I've always thought of myself as a fairly smart person. The fact that I had actually sunk so low in my emotional state to harm myself bewildered and disgusted me. I tried to pretend it never happened. I didn't take care of it, wear a bandage or apply medication because I didn't want anyone knowing what I had done. I was so embarrassed. When my boyfriend finally saw it, it was scabbed over so I decided to blame it on his Doberman jumping up on me the previous week. I've told everyone that lie ever since, and I almost started believing it myself. After that cut I was too worried about getting caught doing it again that I managed to stop. Fortunately I got myself back in control and only had a few thoughts. The threat of having to explain my actions was too scary. Eventually, I stopped feeling overwhelmed with depression. I don't remember it ever fully going away for more than a few months at a time. But I didn't hate myself as often. About two or three years ago it came back though, and it came back hard. I started finding myself crying in the shower, grasping at the walls and wishing I could die... Before slowing sinking to the bottom of the shower and rocking back and forth until I could muster up the strength to put a smile on my face again and face the world. I tried reaching out to friends, but it seemed as though everyone I spoke to was "depressed". I'm sure they could have been, but I still felt so alone. My best friends would try for a week to check in on me but it always faded away. I started noticing that each time I reached out to someone, the amount of time it took for them to completely forget about me was decreasing. I didn't blame them... They had their own stuff going on. Their own problems... And for the ones who were happy, they didn't want their happiness to be clouded by someone else's pessimism. It was SO hard to reach out that first, second, even third time. When no one seemed to care, I stopped caring. It was helping to prove my point of worthlessness to myself. I had literally told my closest confidants that I no longer wanted to live and nothing changed. I think at this point I was really looking for the attention. Someone to show me they cared about me. That they would die if I died. My life mattered so much to someone. I started hiding my feelings again. I started partying more. Drugs made me feel so truly happy until the next day when the reality of using drugs set in. That's not who I am at all. I said I would never do drugs. It ruined my family. My biological father is a alcoholic and heroin addict, among other things. The guilt of following his path was horrible. I couldn't enjoy the party phase my friends were still enjoying. So I stopped going out. I still don't think I can go out without wanting to get drunk enough to forget the pressures. I have had no traumatizing event happen in my life that I can remember. My life has not been perfect, but no one's is. I understand that. So why do I feel such an overwhelming sense of failure and hatred toward myself? I stopped enjoying things I used to. I went camping, out with friends, just normal stuff. And all I wanted to do was go home and crawl into my bed and cry. Everyone is so happy. Everyone can have a good time and be normal. Why can't I? Why do I hate everything I see when I look into the mirror? I remember staring at myself in my grandmother's bathroom when I was younger and crying. I didn't want to be me anymore. I didn't like who I was. For as long as I can remember, I have not felt like "enough" in any way. I need to be prettier, smarter, funnier, more personable, more like her... More like her... More like her. I started idolizing other women who seemed to have it all. That just pointed out to me how much I wasn't like them. I've faked confidence for so long now. I don't know who I am anymore. I don't know if I'm that out-going, fun loving me and adventurous person I can make myself out to be in front of other people... Or if that's just me imitating who I wanted to be. I have actually wished that I had a traumatic event in my life happen so that I could understand the cause of my issues. It is so hard to work on loving yourself when you don't know why you don't. My family always loved me. I always did really well in school and I was the "good" kid. I never thought of myself as a perfectionist. Last summer I started trying to get myself some help. I went to a counsellor, started working on my self-confidence, and talked a little bit about my self-hatred. She had great faith in me and said I wouldn't take long until I would be feeling better. That made me angry. I could feel myself dying inside but I would be "fine" soon enough. This made me feel so minuscule. It felt as though my issues were diminished and that she was affirming my belief that I had no reason to be feeling the way I was. I have a good life. I should be happy. I stopped going to counselling after four or five sessions. I don't know how to talk to people. It's to embarrassing to say that I get feelings of not wanting to live. I have a good life. I shouldn't feel this way. And I don't even know how to explain why I do. It's always the question. Why do you hate yourself? You're a beautiful girl inside and out. Blah blah blah. I know I'm not ugly... I feel really beautiful sometimes. Sometimes I feel great. But the bad times are getting worse every time they come back. Over-powering feelings of not belonging. I think that's what it may all come down to. I don't feel loved. And I have absolutely no idea why. I KNOW that my family and friends love me. That I could completely crush them if I did anything to stop being here. I don't know why I don't feel loved. It's like I need constant reassurance. My mother told me she was suicidal again. Probably for the fourth time in the last four years. There isn't anyone else she feels she can go to. She doesn't want to come to me but she knows she needs to tell someone. It puts me over the edge. I've been crying to myself when I'm alone and getting myself into my happy place over and over lately. Roller coaster of feeling great, like I can overcome depression and move on with my life. Exercising, taking the recommended vitamins for anxiety and depression, eating right... Heck, I even got one of those "happy lights" because I'm determined to not live this way. The responsibility of saving my mom is too much. I needed a break so I bought some alcohol with the intent of getting blackout. I drank and it didn't work. I couldn't get drunk enough to forget how much I've been hurting inside. I just wanted one fucking night of being able to not remember. I wasn't drunk enough to forget, so instead it all rushed at me at once. I don't know how to help my mom. What if she dies. Why does she feel bad enough to want to take her life. Why is life so hard. Why don't people support her more. Why am I the only one. I feel like eve
ry one in my family looks at me to be the strong one. They all unload on me. I'm the one who can take it when they're feeling like shit. They know I can take it. I can't take it. I can't help everyone. I know they don't expect me to. I want to though. I can't and I know I can't so I need to let it go. I need to let them go. But they're my family. What if they're feeling as shitty as I am at this moment. What if they need me. I need someone. I need me. My mom. Why does my mom want to kill herself. She's my mom. This isn't supposed to happen. I feel so alone. I'm alone. I need to take care of myself. I can't. I hate myself. I hate myself for hating myself because I know I shouldn't so I hate myself more for being so fucked up. No one should have to deal with me. I shouldn't make myself someone's responsibility. That's just going to fuck them up. Just like I feel I've been fucked up by everyone else. I wish I could be perfect. I just want to be stronger. I wish I could stop feeling this way. How can I stop feeling this way. I need to stop feeling this way.
I cut.
I'm an idiot. Why'd I do that. I cut. Because I cut. So I hate myself for cutting. At least it hurts. It doesn't hurt as much as I do on the inside. But at least it gives me some physical pain. Something real. Not something I just made up in my head. It's a real pain. I'm allowed to feel the pain of this. It's not just all in my head.
I need help. After I cried and hated myself and cut, I had a moment of realization. What the fuck was I doing. I had to put the knife down. That was so fucked up. What was I doing. I ran. I ran to him. I needed to be held. I needed to just be held and for someone to stop me from hurting myself. I needed someone to let me cry.
I won't do it again. I can't. I need to get better. Cutting doesn't help anything. I can't believe I did it again. I'm so disgusted. I'm going to get help. I just wish I could talk. I guess this is why I've written this. It's the only way I've been able to start to open up.
If you have read my story to try to get a perspective on somone you love cutting... Please, please, please keep doing what you're doing. Be there for that person. Show them you care. If you can't talk to them about it... Insist they get help. I know that it can seem like they're doing it for attention. But just think, if someone is physically harming themselves to get your attention, then they obviously don't know how to open up and need your help. It's so hard for some people. Get them to a therapist. It's not your responsibility to save them, but at least get them started on taking the steps to save themselves.
If you are a cutter, I believe you can get through this. Just like I will get through my depression. This is not my life. It's not your life. We have so much more to live for. Just think about how strong we will be after this. Sometimes our biggest enemies can be ourselves. But the real you is in there somewhere. Don't give up. Do not give up. Something good is coming. Do not lose hope. Hold on.
I love you all.
God bless.