Cutting

I was mad at everyone and everything. Mad at my mother for leaving me. Mad at my sister because she made my life a nightmare. Mad at my aunt because she wouldn't take me in. Mad at the loving people that took me in because they forced their rules on me. Mad at most of the people I went to school with because they were typical teenagers and could be cruel.

I held my anger in. All of it. Many times I would cry or scream in frustration because of how I felt. To relieve that pressure, I cut. The thought of doing that now is absolutely unthinkable to me, but then it was the most wonderful thing I could have ever done. It made me feel better because it made me feel. I hurt rather than felt angry. I was able to work out the frustration in a way I found productive.

No one ever knew. ...until I took it too far one day.

My freshman year in college I dated a guy for a couple of months. I thought he was wonderful and then he accused me of cheating on him and I hadn't. I was so upset with trying to figure out how to talk to him and make him believe me that I went back to my old habit.

Except this time I got a knife. One of our biggest ones. I was in so much despair. "I didn't lie." "Why doesn't he belive me?" "What am I going to do if he starts telling people I cheat." ...not ever that I couldn't live without him, but I didn't want this untruth to ruin my reputation and I was sure there was only one way out.

I had the knife up to my wrist, knowing the "correct" way to cut in order to achieve what I thought I wanted. I called my uncle, knowing somewhere in the back of my head that what I was doing was craziness, but he didn't answer. I could barely speak because I was crying so hard, but I left a message. Right when I decided that I had my answer and was going to start my demise, he called back. I told him that I was just really upset over the break-up and I'm sure I would be fine.

That was enough to snap me out of the delusion that I was making the right choice. I threw the knife across the room where it stayed until my best friend and my roommate came home.

Lowest of the low.

I wish I could say this was the only time I've ever thought about ending everything, but it's not. Even to this day, I often contemplate running my car off a bridge, or some other method to make myself "feel better."

But I've learned that I can deal with whatever comes at me because I have people I can talk to. I have personal ways to get out my anger, sadness, depression and frustration. You'll never regret making the decision to live, no matter the circumstance. I am a firm believer in no one being able to make you sad/mad/angry/etc, you choose to let them make you feel that way. You are the only one that can control your mood. And if you don't have anyone to talk to...well, that's what I'm here for. E-mail me anytime and I may not be able to do anything but listen, but I'm here and that's half the battle.