When was your first time? In that exact moment, why did you?

I'm sorry

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i guess there were moments in the past but the time that i really started was when i was kinda exiting an emotionally abusive relationship and it was so bad i don't think i've ever felt emotional pain quite like that and i took it out on myself because it all felt like my fault and in an odd way, i think it felt like cutting was a legitimate physical outlet for the emotional pain, like it seeped out with the blood. well i started to cut deeper and deeper and there were a few times i easily could have died and i'm 5 months clean and it's really ****ing hard to do. i regret having started and i still feel so self conscious because my scars are really noticeable and my girlfriend is so sweet and i don't think she has ever SIed and i am so scared that she will see my scars and think less of me. i have to live with reminders of my pain for the rest of my life.

I was 18 and it was near the end of high school. We'd just had some sort of event for the seniors, like a dinner or something, and it hit me really hard how everything was changing, like I was going away to college in the fall, as were some close friends. I was also no longer going to be around a male teacher who I was close to emotionally (nothing physically inappropriate ever happened there, but probably emotionally inappropriate), and I think he'd been at the event. I remember that Radiohead's "Fake Plastic Trees" played as I drove home, and it summed up how I felt (and this was back when the song was originally out--yeah, I'm old!). When I got home, I cut my thigh a couple times with a razorblade, and it seemed to help. I think it was a combination of depression and self-loathing (which I guess is a part of depression).

After my first year of college, I didn't really SH. But maybe 4 months ago, partly from depression, some childhood stuff coming up in therapy, and I'm pretty sure from the drug I had recently started (Effexor), the urges came back. I only used my fingernails, but pretty sure it still qualifies. Doing a bit better now (and on a different drug).

Two weeks ago I was silently sobbing on the floor of the bathroom, and my friend whom I was texting everything I was thinking to suddenly said that he had to go, he was sorry, but he couldn't stay. I took this to mean that I'd finally driven him away, and hurt him too through my own struggles. My self hatred went through the roof and on a spur of the moment I grabbed a pair of tweezers and used one of the tips to cut into a tiny portion of my hand that I knew I'd be able to explain later if anyone asked. The tweezers weren't all that sharp, so it took a while to cut beyond just a scratch.

I cut for the first time because no matter how depressed I got, the thing to spill me over the edge was my best friend needing to leave for the night because he was overwhelmed.

Later I learned that he had actually been overwhelmed with other things that day and had simply not been able to handle me in addition that night.

Two weeks later I have small scabs on my hand that haven't quite healed yet, two small cuts made with something else on my knee, one on my foot, and one on my hip.

First time i cut was just after i turned 14 i had been feeling the urge to do it for a few months before that. But i had been biting myself and pulling skin off ever since i was really little.

I was eight. I can remember the exact moment. I was standing in our yard by a wooden fence, looking down at so e red and yellow flowers. And i felt so sad and empty- i do not recall why. But i SI'd, pretty severly. I recall at the time thinking that the scar i would have would help me always remember this moment.
I wish i could recall what happened right before i went out in the yard. I had probably gotten in trouble from my dad, like always.

As a child i self harmed in small ways. I didnt pick it up severly again until i was raped as a teenager, and i can remember getting in a burning hot shower one night, purposely burning myself on the water, trying to remove all the "dirtiness" from my horrible body.
The next day i started cutting.

10...4th grade...rescess...bullies pushed me down...arm landed on broken bottle...cut bad...friekef the bullies out...blood was warm...mesmerizing...I pickef up a large piece of the glass and made the cut worse...I am now over 30 YRS OLd and im still using it as coping..