An Average Day in a Cutter's Life: June 2014

I wrote this for my boyfriend to try and explain how I became me.

I keep thinking of how to start this and I think the beginning is the best place to start. Don’t get me wrong on any of this, I’m thankful for what I have and all that I’ve made it through but at the same time I know that I have been a bit spoiled for most of my life. There are always going to be people who have it worse, but there are always people who have it much better.

I guess the beginning would mean my first real memory, huh? The very first thing I can remember in my life is the first night after my dad moved out. That was back in September of 2004. I’ve always been a huge daddy’s girl and I remember my mum setting the table for dinner. I was waiting for him to come home and she just looked at me and told me he wasn’t coming home anymore. I can still remember the feeling in the pit of my stomach. After that, everything goes black for about three years. That’s the year I started middle school. I remember the feeling of being completely terrified because I had really only made two friends in elementary school. Sixth grade was probably the best of those three years because I was still innocent. I didn’t know how terrible the world really is or was. Anyways, I kind of bloomed that year and made a lot of great friends that I’m still friends with to this day. 2008 is the year everything started getting bad. I started getting seriously interested in guys and I had my first “boyfriend” (if you can consider him that). I became obsessed with stories of cutters and attempted suicides. The boy and I broke up after roughly 6 months I believe and that’s when I first tried cutting. I just wanted to see if it really felt as good as was described by those online and I realized how right they were. That summer I was pretty good about not doing it unless I was really upset which started to become more and more frequent. During that summer, I limited my food intake because I had been bullied most of 7^th grade. My mum attributed my weight to the fact that I was always running around. It was perfect and I got away with hardly eating until the middle of my 8^th grade year. By that point, I was at 122.2lbs and I didn’t want to stop but one of my teachers noticed that I really didn’t eat much if at all during the lunch hour. At this time, I was dating another boy. It was hard for me to eat because of all the little comments he made while I did eat and because I was still being bullied. I would come home crying almost every day because I felt like the world was against me. That’s when my cutting really got out of hand. I was always in jeans and long sleeves to cover whatever damage I had inflicted upon myself the night before. In the summer of 2011, I lost my virginity at the age of 13 and first tried to kill myself.

Freshman year started and I thought everything was going to get better. I started getting my cutting a bit more under control. That is until the bullying started again. I had days where my entire stomach was covered in cuts from the night before. I met a really sweet senior guy who took me under his wing and showed me this new world. I was in Track and Field. I thought everything was better. That’s when the hardes part of my story happened. I had recently been talking to a stoner that was a year older. He constantly texted me and kept asking to fuck me. One night during spring break, I was at a park after dark just chilling. He knew I liked to hang out there. He found me there, lying on the ground. I had my eyes closed and didn’t know he was there. He pinned my arms above my head and raped me. I cried and begged him to stop, but he wouldn’t. I found a piece of glass on the ground and started cutting my arm with it just to try and ignore the pain he was causing… I don’t know why I didn’t scream for help. I was just too scared. Once he was done, he walked me home. He continued to text me for the next couple days telling me how good it felt, how he wanted to do it again, asking me if I liked it. I couldn’t take it. I texted my wife telling her how sorry I was that I couldn’t be stronger and then I hung myself. She came over and got me down. I cried and cried in her arms. We went back to school after spring break like nothing had ever happened. My French teacher over heard me talking to one of my friends about what had happened. That’s how I got sent to the Aurora Mental Health Facility down in Milwaukee for a week. I met some amazing people there, but the councilers continually blamed me for what happened. They’d say things like “it was what you were wearing” and “you shouldn’t have lead him on”. I made them think I was better after a week. I never took the medication they tried to shove down my throat. I became better at hiding everything. I still cut all the time. I tried to kill myself about 3-4 more times before someone threatened to get me sent back. I’ve been trying to recover for almost three years now.

Last year I met David. I thought he was perfect and amazing and wonderful and, honestly, I thought he was the one. Everything was fine for the first few months and then we began to get hotel rooms when he would come up so we could spend the night together. That’s when it all started getting worse again. He liked everything rough. He’d pin me down no matter how much I begged and pleaded him not to. He’d claw me so hard it bled. He’d hit me if he ever saw new cuts. He’d knee me in the jaw if I wasn’t doing a good enough job down there.He’d make me feel horrible about my weight telling me that if I ever gained another pound, he’d dump my ass so fast. He’d pull my hair if he thought I wasn’t listening. He’d tell me he didn’t date girls with short hair every time I talked of cutting my hair. He’d tell me how ugly my hair colour was and that I should go bleach blonde. He almost roundhouse kicked me in the face. The only thing that stopped him is my wife was there. Once he got the leash, it got even worse. At the con, all he would do was pull me around and grope me until I finally called him out on it. As I was crying, he told me to stop making a fucking scene and to quit crying like a little baby. He then kissed me on the forehead and sent me back to my hotel room. The next day he acted as if nothing had happened and when I tried to bring it up, he began to scream at me in front of everyone. He used me for sex and I really don’t think he has a soul.

And that’s where you come in. I’m sorry this is so long, but I feel like I’m leaving so many things out to begin with. I hope you can still love me with all of this bullshit. No matter what, I will always love you.

An Average Day in a Cutter's Life

Thursday, June 26, 2014

26th June 2014, 10.52am

Tuesday, June 24, 2014

24th June 2014, 7.22am

Sunday, June 22, 2014

22nd June 2014, 11.20am

Saturday, June 21, 2014

21st June 2014, 10.18am

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

19th June 2014, 4.25pm

Tuesday, June 17, 2014

18th June 2014, 12.54pm

Thursday, June 5, 2014

5th June 2014, 8.04am

Wednesday, June 4, 2014

4th June 2014, 9.08am

Monday, June 2, 2014

2nd June 2014, 10.23am