Dear BB, Yes, I have been seeing my therapist for about 3 years now. Just a few months back I had the balls to tell him about cutting and MAN I felt soooo much better. I still get the urge but looking at the scars I have gives me courage to find a new method of relaxation. My boyfriend Dan, I'll probably mention him a lot, came over last night to help my nerves relax. He always knows what to do; although I woke up a lot, he was always awake to help me get back to sleep. WOOHOO! About time I rest!
Dear Slik_Kitty, That's what I plan on using this community for; support from people who understand. I tried talking with my mother, and she doesn't get how my brain works. I really hope I continue not to cut, or any other harmful technques I've used in the past.
I understand completely, I hope you get better soon! I'm terribly ill lately aswell, earlier this week I either had the flu or a bug, either way NOT PRETTY. Today is the third time this week I've missed school, I miss school a lot. The past two nights I've gotton only 3 hours of sleep and I have Insomnia as it is. As a result my cronic acid reflux burned so much worse than I can remember any other time, probably from lack of food. My head was throbbing like crazy and the smallest sounds KILLED my brain (yup, I asked my mom to stop breathing across the table). The slightest noises would even get me to be nauseous. The cherry on top of it all?- My neighbors hired loud pavers with louder machines lined up right outside my window. I would have moved to the other room but whenever I stand up my nerves go crazy and I start having a panic attack, I nearly collaped on my floor at one point. Today I SOOO wanted to cut. DEEP. I hate hospitals more than anything, but today I seriously thought about calling myself an abulance. I am so affraid I'll be like this again.View Thread
Reading your post really touched me, in some ways we are pretty simular, and for me, it made me feel less alone. I hope in some way I can give you that same feeling in my reply. I'm a teenager aswell and my father drove me into depression. I used different methods to cover up the pain he created on me. In 6th grade I pricked myself with pins to make a heart in my skin, the insitions were pretty deep but because the pins were thin the heart scar faded away (thank yooooou Mederma). I didn't like the pain that the pins gave me so in 7th grade I drank away my emotions, and honestly, I regret that the most. I can not remember most of that year. In 8th I had a boyfriend who wanted me to stop drinking... So I did and I began taking higher dosages of my depression and anxiety pills than recomended and being slutty for attention, I know "being slutty" doesn't sound all that bad compared to physically hurting myself but at the time I craved to feel sexy and now looking back at that, it hurts me to think that I was one of those girls. I was bullied for being thin and I was called anerexic a lot which caused me to become anerexic, not on purpose, I just never felt hungry and the times I'd try to force feed myself I got so nauseous that I'd start having panick attacks. I tried meditation to calm myself (which does help a lot!) but once I got so frustrated that I had no control of myself that I took the insence I was burning and burned myself... I no longer use insence lol. In 9th I was still being a complete and utter whore and traded it out for cutting. And as soon as I started cutting, I wanted to do it all the time. I tried many different blades and like you, I also liked the really sharp craft scissors the best. Now I'm in 10th grade and I promised my hero (I refer to my boyfriend as my hero, he stopped me from a suicide attempt and also pushed me to stop cutting) that I wouldn't cut. It is so unbelievably hard but both of us will get through these tough stages of life. And we don't have to be alone, just look at all these lovely people, who chances are don't know you, but we all want the best for you. Last week I finally showed my mom the scars, she didn't say anything either (probably shocked that I hated myself so much) but she could tell I was worried she'd put in in a loonybin so she kissed my wrist and it said more than words ever could. Maybe your mom doesn't know how to react, maybe she's in denial that you did it but consiter talking to her about it. I know with most things, my mom doesn't understand so she doesn't know how to help or react.
PS. I also had the thoughts about suicide, only once did I really want to pursue with it but for a while I had very violet, torturous thoughts. That's what really pushed me over the edge to talk to my therapist.
I hope you get better, do what I do, jam out to The Beatle's, they always make me feel better about myself.View Thread
Hey guys, I've been contimplating joining or not, but what the hell. Talking to people has always been a big weakness of mine (Okay, FINE, not so much "talking" is my issue its venting and TRUST) and I really do want to improve my mental health so I'm going to try and give this a shot. I have no idea where on Earth to begin.View Thread
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