Quote:
Originally Posted by ShaggyChic_1201
I'm an overachiever, so everything is triggerable 
Possible trigger:
My first time, which I don't remember, was when I was 5 and used a steak knife to cut my thigh screaming I hated how fat I was.
First time I remember SH was in 4th grade when I tried to intentionally sprain my wrist. I got caught by a teacher, but this was so long ago that no one knew it was a sign of distress. They just thought I was a whack job. (which of course I was  )
it became a habit in college, in addition to lots of other bad coping skills. Just today I was looking at my scars. They're very unobtrusive/easily "explained" (I have dozens of interesting but fake stories I can regail audiences with), but to me, they're a roadmap of how tragic my life has been, and the lengths to which I've gone to stay alive. I imagine, if I ever told my T that my favorite method is to cut away chunks of flesh with sharp scissors, she'd get a lot of insight.
Now quite old and in T for 4+ years, I don't act on my urges anymore. Sometimes I miss the outlet, so I fantasize about it. Sad. Very sad. |
I want to cut myself again too but I run competitively & to try to wear long sleeves year round under your uniform is unbearable. It gets try hot when you run as hard as you can, in 90°, outside, with long sleeves. Also, swear stings on cut and the excursion of running will make the cuts bleed again. I wore white sleeves one day and I might as well wore nothing. So, that is my main reason I don't cut. I can't believe you cut yourself at 5!!! I have scars now on my arms and thighs, that sometimes are noticeable. Not horribly noticeable. I never had people ask unless they knew I cut myself before. Try are not big, but they are big in number and they are raised and white. Scar tissue. Sometimes purple if I'm cold... Actually, in class I would use a rubber band when I was upset to the point my wrist was raw and red. One teacher caught me.
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