deepundergroundpoetry.com
The All-True Confessions of an Ex-Cutter (Day 100)
100 days of no cutting.
"I'm so proud of you Annie."
The praises from my mom and boyfriend are more than I can bear as I look down at the healed scars. The scars that I have been using to document so much progress in my mental health, knowing that I really was getting better. Despite knowing how ignorant and cruel my ex-girlfriend is, despite living in a hotel because I was evicted from my apartment all the way back in September. Despite the arguements that I've had with my mother and my boyfriend. Despite losing one of my best friends without doing anything. Despite some woman coming to the hotel and forcing me to drop out of school. Despite all of these things-- I have made it.
Made it a hundred days.
And it's funny.... It's like I never changed. Like cutting was never apart of who I was. It was something I did because....
Because SHE made me do it. I remember now and I want everyone to know why a cutter will cut.
It's not because they want attention.
It's not because they're "overly emotional".
It's because..... They can't let anyone see their emotions. Which is what I couldn't do with her, my ex-girlfriend. I may have cheated on her but I hated it when she cut herself. I did everything in my power to help her stop, include start doing it myself. But when I did it-- It was bad, I was looked at with shame, like she was disappointed in me.
Not worried.
Not concerned.
Just disappointed.
So I did it more.
And more.
And more.
And more.
Just to get back at her.
Just to get even with her.
Stop having so many FUCKING problems.
Stop looking for reasons to be so FUCKED up.
I just couldn't handle it.
Her stories became so hard to believe.
And to believe I was punishing myself, I cut more.
Until the point it was what I did ALL THE TIME.
Even when it was just because I didn't get my way about something.
I was sick.
I was messed up.
I started to become one of those cutters that do hurt themselves to get attention.
And then it just became an addiction.
This overwhelming sadness would come over me and I would just cut...
CUT--
CUT--
CUT--
CUT--
CUT--
When I got scared.
When I got sad.
When I was alone.
When I knew the hurtful things that SHE was saying about me.
When my mother started yelling at me.
When my boyfriend wasn't there to hold me.
When....
My mind was in ruins.
And then came that day. . . Feburary 1st to be exact.
And I thought that my cuts.
That I had just done.
That day.
That morning.
Because of the fear.
Of going to school came crashing down around me.
And I just couldn't do anything.
But sit and watch the blood.
And then he stopped texting.
My (ex) friend started texting.
He wasn't answering.
He wasn't replying.
Where did he go?
"He's says he's going to kill us if we don't kill ourselves first."
Tears slide down my cheeks.
And I feel sick in my own skin.
The word "Whore" carved into m leg.
The name "Andrew" carved into my thigh.
The phrase "Fuck You" on my other thigh.
The scars on my arms and wrists.
I wanted them all to just go away.
I want them all to disappear.
I regretted every one of them in that moment.
"Andrew. . ."
I say his name and I feel a storm crack come from inside my chest.
He was going to leave me.
And then....
I would be alone.
All for some cuts.
A razor.
And a whole lot of emptiness.
Was that worth losing him over?
He wasn't HER, he wasn't a lying piece of pathetic waste that ruined my life from the inside our like some kind of cancer.
No he was....
My love.
My soul mate.
The one for I was brought back to be with.
My penguin.
He was my life.
I couldn't let him go.
"Take it"
I croaked out the words to my mother, handing her my razor. The razor that she was told to never touch. She takes it, staring at me with that "whatever" face. She didn't believe me, I've said that I would stop too many times before. And had picked it back up again within a few weeks. But this time was different. I was not going to lose the one person who would do anything for me because I was selfish. I was not the girl that I had loved before him, I would not stoop as low as her sick and twisted mind games. I would not make him into what she made me become.
I actually love him.
And here I stand, 100 days later.
Three months later.
Stopped Feburary 2nd.
And now it's May 12th.
I was really going to make it.
After trying and failing so many times.
I was actually going to make it this time.
Scars are healing.
My mind is mending.
My broken heart has been fixed (by him).
And after 100 days.
I now consider myself an Ex-cutter.
And that is the truth.
The whole truth.
And nothing but the truth.
"It's been 100 days since I stopped cutting."
"That's great Annie, I'm so proud of you."
"I'm so proud of you Annie."
The praises from my mom and boyfriend are more than I can bear as I look down at the healed scars. The scars that I have been using to document so much progress in my mental health, knowing that I really was getting better. Despite knowing how ignorant and cruel my ex-girlfriend is, despite living in a hotel because I was evicted from my apartment all the way back in September. Despite the arguements that I've had with my mother and my boyfriend. Despite losing one of my best friends without doing anything. Despite some woman coming to the hotel and forcing me to drop out of school. Despite all of these things-- I have made it.
Made it a hundred days.
And it's funny.... It's like I never changed. Like cutting was never apart of who I was. It was something I did because....
Because SHE made me do it. I remember now and I want everyone to know why a cutter will cut.
It's not because they want attention.
It's not because they're "overly emotional".
It's because..... They can't let anyone see their emotions. Which is what I couldn't do with her, my ex-girlfriend. I may have cheated on her but I hated it when she cut herself. I did everything in my power to help her stop, include start doing it myself. But when I did it-- It was bad, I was looked at with shame, like she was disappointed in me.
Not worried.
Not concerned.
Just disappointed.
So I did it more.
And more.
And more.
And more.
Just to get back at her.
Just to get even with her.
Stop having so many FUCKING problems.
Stop looking for reasons to be so FUCKED up.
I just couldn't handle it.
Her stories became so hard to believe.
And to believe I was punishing myself, I cut more.
Until the point it was what I did ALL THE TIME.
Even when it was just because I didn't get my way about something.
I was sick.
I was messed up.
I started to become one of those cutters that do hurt themselves to get attention.
And then it just became an addiction.
This overwhelming sadness would come over me and I would just cut...
CUT--
CUT--
CUT--
CUT--
CUT--
When I got scared.
When I got sad.
When I was alone.
When I knew the hurtful things that SHE was saying about me.
When my mother started yelling at me.
When my boyfriend wasn't there to hold me.
When....
My mind was in ruins.
And then came that day. . . Feburary 1st to be exact.
And I thought that my cuts.
That I had just done.
That day.
That morning.
Because of the fear.
Of going to school came crashing down around me.
And I just couldn't do anything.
But sit and watch the blood.
And then he stopped texting.
My (ex) friend started texting.
He wasn't answering.
He wasn't replying.
Where did he go?
"He's says he's going to kill us if we don't kill ourselves first."
Tears slide down my cheeks.
And I feel sick in my own skin.
The word "Whore" carved into m leg.
The name "Andrew" carved into my thigh.
The phrase "Fuck You" on my other thigh.
The scars on my arms and wrists.
I wanted them all to just go away.
I want them all to disappear.
I regretted every one of them in that moment.
"Andrew. . ."
I say his name and I feel a storm crack come from inside my chest.
He was going to leave me.
And then....
I would be alone.
All for some cuts.
A razor.
And a whole lot of emptiness.
Was that worth losing him over?
He wasn't HER, he wasn't a lying piece of pathetic waste that ruined my life from the inside our like some kind of cancer.
No he was....
My love.
My soul mate.
The one for I was brought back to be with.
My penguin.
He was my life.
I couldn't let him go.
"Take it"
I croaked out the words to my mother, handing her my razor. The razor that she was told to never touch. She takes it, staring at me with that "whatever" face. She didn't believe me, I've said that I would stop too many times before. And had picked it back up again within a few weeks. But this time was different. I was not going to lose the one person who would do anything for me because I was selfish. I was not the girl that I had loved before him, I would not stoop as low as her sick and twisted mind games. I would not make him into what she made me become.
I actually love him.
And here I stand, 100 days later.
Three months later.
Stopped Feburary 2nd.
And now it's May 12th.
I was really going to make it.
After trying and failing so many times.
I was actually going to make it this time.
Scars are healing.
My mind is mending.
My broken heart has been fixed (by him).
And after 100 days.
I now consider myself an Ex-cutter.
And that is the truth.
The whole truth.
And nothing but the truth.
"It's been 100 days since I stopped cutting."
"That's great Annie, I'm so proud of you."
Published 12th May 2012
| Edited 13th May 2012
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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The author encourages honest critique.
13th May 2012 00:07am
What a fantastic into the mind of a self abuser. This is so damn real, it has brought all the same feelings and emotions to the surface so I don't think you could ask for a more honest critique. You write so beautifully, so eloquently and I am so proud of you for managing the magic ton. Keep on holding on sweet Lady, you are a true inspiration to the rest of us.
Thank you for sharing such a personal write.
Love and gratitude D xx
Thank you for sharing such a personal write.
Love and gratitude D xx
13th May 2012 6:17am
