For so many years I didn't know what self-harm was. I felt so alone so I used cutting as my release for anger, pain and emptiness Although I wasn't trying to hurt myself, that was just my relief, my coping mechanism.
I hid my body from any cuts and scars I caused myself. Summer wasn't my enjoyment. I was always dressed like it was winter. No tank tops, no t-shirts, nothing that would bare my arms. If my sleeve wasn't down far enough, I would blame it on a cat scratching me.I was scared and paranoid someone would see my arm and I had no explanation to give them. So I began cutting my thighs and my neck; just anywhere that nobody would see One day I just was so upset and so alone, I went too far and cut too deep. I had to go to the ER and I lied to the doctors and the police about why the skin on my arm was flapped over; sliced. I then told the police what they already knew from the doctors, that I had scars all over my arms.. I ended up with a ride to the mental health facility, too many stitches that I can't even recall. I sliced through my muscle and that was just more stitches under my skin. I was numb for a while because the day was long and my secret was exposed. My family saw I was a cutter But... What was a Cutter?
This Cause is dedicated to all those who've shown their continued support, raised awareness and have always believed in me. I believe that Mental Health is something that needs to be discussed, taught and learned, not swept under the rug.