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Reflecting on my past, I wonder how it all started. How I could ever
pick up a razor and cut myself? I wonder how I did it, and cringe as I look at
all the scars on my right thigh. Scars that scare me because I know I did it to
myself,but scars that are healed, letting me know that I am past that rough time
in my life, and I know that I could never do it again. I just wanted to share my

story hoping that it would inspire others that are going through it now and do
not know how to stop.

When I was young I did not have the perfect childhood. My mother cheated on
my Dad with our next door neighbor. They got a divorce and my mom married the
other man, who abused her and she made my two sisters and I be witness to it
when she left him and went back to him countless times. After the divorce my dad
had some problems and went off the deep end for a little while. The Department
of Human services ended up removing us from his custody and we
were going to stay at my aunt and uncles house for a while.

I was about seven years old when we went to live with them. They were the
perfect couple in my eyes. They gave me hope at a young age that marriages could
last. My aunt also shattered that hope for me. When I was about eleven my uncle
went to serve in Iraq by then both my sisters had already moved out and I was
there to witness another thing. The perfect wife, my aunt, cheated on him with
multiple people when he went to the war, one being out next door neighbor.You
could definitely tell she was my mothers sister. When my uncle returned a year
later the burden fell on me to tell him and I did.

While all this was going on my dad was getting his life straightened out to
get back custody of me but he was diagnosed with lung cancer. This is when it
started I guess. I'd get so mad I'd pinch myself and it made me feel good or I
would bite my self and I felt better. I cant explain it but it calmed me. My
aunt and uncle got a divorce and my dad got back custody of me. We moved to
another town not far from where I had been living with my aunt and uncle. living
and I attended a new school. It got to where I was always depressed especially
as my dad got sicker and sicker as he dealt with the cancer. To add to his pain
he also got diagnosed with emphysema.

I ended up cutting my self all the time. Never on the wrists though. I didn't
want to die at all, I just wanted to feel better. I cut myself on my thigh so no
one would see. I eventually cut on my arm and my ankles too. It got to where I
had to do it, it was addicting

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