Cutting myself was something I did to get relief, attention and or when I did something wrong. I never wanted to kill myself, but I would often cut deep enough that would acquire many stitches and or staples. The deepest cut was 48 staples.

 

I don't remember feeling any pain but I felt like a balloon floating in the air. Oh how It felt so good. The sensation was like no other. I could not believe how something so bad could make me feel so good.  

 

Not only would I cut myself, I would rub my under my eyes, so they would look like I had a black eye and or I would punch my face, until it would bruise. It sounds crazy, but it is so true.

 

When I would cut myself, I would be admitted to the mental hospital and put on medications to stable my moods and actions. By going to the hospital, I would get love, a shoulder to cry on, someone who listened and a lot of attention. Its almost like, I felt like a baby. 

 

I use to love the attention to where I started cutting myself more and more, this way I could go back to what felt good.  The love and attention was something I had never had and it made me feel like no other. 

 

 Cutting myself was something I had become accustomed to and eventually cutting became a huge part of my life “No Control”! I have not cut in many, many years. I now understand why I did what I did and realize I love myself and not my past...