The term itself holds a certain stigma. Most hold stereotypical views of how a person who self-injures acts, or why they do it; these stereotypes reassure us. After all, it's easy to judge someone who we view as an obnoxious, attention-seeking prat, isn't it? Isn't that what all self-injurers are?
The truth is that more often than not, these assumptions are based out of prejudice; people fear what they cannot understand. What most people do not understand is that self injurers are people, too; they are all unique. There is no collective reason why they hurt themselves-it varies on a case-to-case basis. My reasons for delving into the realm of self-harm may be completely different from another person's motivations.
I never really decided to start hurting myself. It was more of a consequence of my low self-worth and my upbringing. I was an overweight kid; instead of helping me learn to make proper decisions, my mother insulted me. I was frequently belittled because of my size and singled out; the entire family could be eating a steak dinner and a cake, and I'd be given a small portion of grilled chicken and a fruit cup. While I know these actions were well-intentioned, they hurt me. I did not receive any approval or praise unless I lost weight. As a result, my self-worth was inextricably linked with my size.
I felt trapped at home, but school was no better. Up until eighth grade, I was tormented daily-for being fat, for being older than others, and because people viewed me as a lesbian. It didn't matter that it wasn't true-they realized they could hurt me. I began to withdraw from others, and depression hit me like a brick.
My thought process changed drastically. I began to view myself as worthless; I was absolutely nothing. I hated everything about myself by the tender age of nine years old. These emotions piled up, and eventually overflowed when I was thirteen. I made my first cut in the summer if 2009 , with a broken CD case. It hardly broke the skin, and didn't even bleed-but I was hooked. Cutting made me feel clearer, more focused. I could survive all of this-as long as I kept my focus.
Contrary to popular belief, not all people who hurt themselves are suicidal. Quite the opposite, actually-most people who self-injure are fighting to live. It's a coping mechanism-somehow, the pain keeps us sane and connected to the world. After I cut, I feel numb-I'm totally separated from everything that hurts me inside. I live for that feeling, when the scarlet spreads and the ache in my chest subsides. In those few hours, I can just be.
I cut frequently up until this year; I'm covered with scars that no one can see. The majority are on my ankles, which are easily covered by my uniform tights and jeans on the weekends. I don't talk about my self-harm; not a single soul knows that I'm still struggling with it. Truth be told, the only person who knows that anything is wrong is my English teacher. He's an incredible person; he was the first-and so far, the only-person to tell me that I have worth.
He inspired me to try to recover. I'm beginning to realize that my value as a person is not reflected by the size of my jeans, and that I do have talents. It's a daily battle, and I've relapsed once-but I got up and fought on. Someday, I will be able to say, "I defeated self-harm."
Remember, your words matter. You can build someone up, or send them toppling down. Take the time to talk to that boy in your class who seems lost, or that girl who keeps her head down. Be kind to all-just because someone is outgoing does not mean they are not suffering. You can make a difference.
To everyone who is struggling with self-injury, eating disorders, mental illness, or suicidal thoughts-keep battling on. Things can get better.
The truth is that more often than not, these assumptions are based out of prejudice; people fear what they cannot understand. What most people do not understand is that self injurers are people, too; they are all unique. There is no collective reason why they hurt themselves-it varies on a case-to-case basis. My reasons for delving into the realm of self-harm may be completely different from another person's motivations.
I never really decided to start hurting myself. It was more of a consequence of my low self-worth and my upbringing. I was an overweight kid; instead of helping me learn to make proper decisions, my mother insulted me. I was frequently belittled because of my size and singled out; the entire family could be eating a steak dinner and a cake, and I'd be given a small portion of grilled chicken and a fruit cup. While I know these actions were well-intentioned, they hurt me. I did not receive any approval or praise unless I lost weight. As a result, my self-worth was inextricably linked with my size.
I felt trapped at home, but school was no better. Up until eighth grade, I was tormented daily-for being fat, for being older than others, and because people viewed me as a lesbian. It didn't matter that it wasn't true-they realized they could hurt me. I began to withdraw from others, and depression hit me like a brick.
My thought process changed drastically. I began to view myself as worthless; I was absolutely nothing. I hated everything about myself by the tender age of nine years old. These emotions piled up, and eventually overflowed when I was thirteen. I made my first cut in the summer if 2009 , with a broken CD case. It hardly broke the skin, and didn't even bleed-but I was hooked. Cutting made me feel clearer, more focused. I could survive all of this-as long as I kept my focus.
Contrary to popular belief, not all people who hurt themselves are suicidal. Quite the opposite, actually-most people who self-injure are fighting to live. It's a coping mechanism-somehow, the pain keeps us sane and connected to the world. After I cut, I feel numb-I'm totally separated from everything that hurts me inside. I live for that feeling, when the scarlet spreads and the ache in my chest subsides. In those few hours, I can just be.
I cut frequently up until this year; I'm covered with scars that no one can see. The majority are on my ankles, which are easily covered by my uniform tights and jeans on the weekends. I don't talk about my self-harm; not a single soul knows that I'm still struggling with it. Truth be told, the only person who knows that anything is wrong is my English teacher. He's an incredible person; he was the first-and so far, the only-person to tell me that I have worth.
He inspired me to try to recover. I'm beginning to realize that my value as a person is not reflected by the size of my jeans, and that I do have talents. It's a daily battle, and I've relapsed once-but I got up and fought on. Someday, I will be able to say, "I defeated self-harm."
Remember, your words matter. You can build someone up, or send them toppling down. Take the time to talk to that boy in your class who seems lost, or that girl who keeps her head down. Be kind to all-just because someone is outgoing does not mean they are not suffering. You can make a difference.
To everyone who is struggling with self-injury, eating disorders, mental illness, or suicidal thoughts-keep battling on. Things can get better.
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