Today someone has been trying to get me to try to look within and see the beauty and love myself. So I would like to take you on a journey that not many people know outside of my mother. Who has not been with me since I was 19.
My 8th grade year. It was hell I don't even remember the year. I was homeschooled this year because of some horrendous things that I had to go through my 6th and 7th grade year. I had been spit on, name called, and more. So my mother had enough, because I had enough. I had gotten very bad thoughts in my head about what I would do. So we did homeschooling. It was very easy for a girl who is smart in books and streets. Instead of doing the work on the computer I figured out the password (it was our dogs name at the time, max) and copied the right answers and left some wrong to seem like I was doing it all myself.
Homeschooling wasn't my thing so freshman year my mother enrolled me back into public school. They said I was more emotionally advanced and educationally advanced that they wanted me in sophmore class. Little did they know that I'm a master at giving people just what they want. But my mom being my mom knew me very well and said no. I then fooled around with lots of people made some friends became a social outcast. Had many people keep away. I was the weird girl that no one would associate with. I had little friends. To be precise I had 2 maybe 3 real friends that to this day I miss because they are no longer there due to some bad things.
Let me say something that's rather hard. If you ever see me, know me, look at me. You'll see the scars. See the things on my body that just don't fit. Don't look closer I beg of you. There are more scars on my body then any one person should have. No I was not abused physically. I was not hit in a horrid manner. I.....*sigh* I am my own worst enemy. I am a cutter. I've been a cutter since I was in the 7th grade.
Fast forward. Freshman year horrible relationship with a emotionally stunted, depressed boy. Had horrible horrible fights that would end with him saying he loved me and if I was gonna leave him that he would hurt himself. He didn't mind that I was a cutter because he never really noticed me outside the bedroom. I ran away even one night. I was gone with him for over 48 hours before my mother got smart and found me. I quickly learned that he just wasn't there for me. I stepped away from a potentially suicidal relationship. I say suicidal because he made me suicidal. My cutting gave notice to a friend. He watched made sure that I didn't take it to far. But I did. I took it super far. At the time I was so very mad at him. I wanted to hurt him and myself for him telling on me.
One night I cut to deep in a wrong area. He saved me. It sent me to the hospital where I stayed for 2 weeks. A lot longer then the normal patients in the youth psych ward. I went to therapy of many kinds. Music, art, speech, group, and individual. I learn ways to cope. My journey from cutting over self hate, over how I feel everyday about my looks and my thought. I cut to focus on that one feeling instead of the thousands of sensory feelings that run through my brain. I cut to block out the emotional hurt and replace it with this physical pain that I can fix.
The doctors have labeled me manic-depressive type 2. As well as being serious at risk with boarder line personality disorder. Meaning I'm all shades of fucked up. To this day I struggle on a daily basses.education doesn't work because I get overly medicated. So I do different therapies myself. Yes yes I know that's not exactly safe but when your paranoid and open up to no one. It's all I got.
There is my secret. There is my wound. My oozing wound that leaks, spills over and ruins my days. It's not the whole truth I left out part. But that's the major gist of it. Want answers to some questions. Ask. Want advice ask. Want to know more. Keep reading.
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