• Turn your wounds into wisdom.

    by  • July 8, 2011 • * Safe for Work *, Hope • 4 Comments

    Some people cry when they’re hurting… Some people eat tons of ice cream… Some people hit punching bags, not me… I used to cut myself. There was a lot of pain in my life at the time. My parents were splitting up, lies were told, my brother was out of control, and there was little stability and control at home. I didn’t know how to cope with the pain. When I first started cutting myself, nobody knew. I was very sneaky, and hid the pain well. I started cutting at the end of my 7th grade year. I got away with it for about a year, until my friends and family found out about it. I saw counselor, after counselor…who warned me if I didn’t stop they were going to have to hospitalize me. But I didn’t care, the razor felt too good to let go of. I did it because it released my pain, and it was the one thing I could control. I liked hurting myself, and I didn’t feel like I mattered. It started off as sort of like an “experiment.” Little did I know it would become a three year addiction. I’m sure people who knew me thought I was a freak…But it didn’t bother me, because cutting was all I needed.

    Cutting caused a lot of problems with my family, and I. My mom lost all trust for me. She made me sleep with my door open, because she was scared she was going to walk in and find me dead. My dad stopped wanting to be around me because I was upset with him and the world. Even my little sister Holli was scared of me. My friends started worrying about me, and I isolated myself from them. I had lost the control that I thought I had, over the cutting. I was a wreck too.

    I hurt everyone I possibly could by cutting myself; my parents, siblings, friends, and family were all affected by my behavior. They all begged for me to stop. The sad thing was I couldn’t. I was addicted at that point. I spent most of my 8th grade, and 9th grade year in treatment centers. I ran away on numerous occasions, staying away from my family for days at a time. They didn’t understand what I was feeling. Nobody but the razor did. Drugs became introduced to me. I got shackled by the cops a few times too. I just wanted the pain to go away. But it wouldn’t. It got so bad, and I became desperate to cut. My mom was checking my wrists daily to make sure nothing was fresh… And it wasn’t. That’s because I was cutting on my upper thighs and stomach. I found ways to cut even then.

    So my parents did the best thing they ever could’ve done for me. They placed me in a therapeutic boarding school on May 29th, of 2006 in Louisiana. I was so incredibly bitter at first. I spent the first week planning my escape. But I truly hit rock bottom, and I had realized it, as well. The boarding school broke me completely. I hated it at first, but then the girls there helped me change my ways. I had to take a long look in the mirror, at myself, and the others around me. I had let my addiction get the best of me. I lost happiness. So I forgave myself, and as my mom told me I had to take my recovery process “a day at a time.” It was the hardest year of my life, but also one of the greatet. I got out of Evangel House, May 20th, 2007. I spent my whole sophomore year of high school there. I relapsed once in November of 07. So that’s made me cut free for almost three years! It’s such an amazing feeling to look at how far I’ve come in my life. I really want to get my degree in counseling or social work. I’m thinking I want to help people who struggle with what I went through or addictions in general.

    Everyday I see the scars on my wrists, and thighs and I’m reminded of my past… They’re still there. But it doesn’t get me down anymore! I used to be self conscious, about my scars, but now I see how strong I’ve become because of them. They are a reminder of what I’ve been through. What I have accomplished, and what I am capable of accomplishing. I’ve taken it as a learning experience. I’m not perfect, and even now there are some days I become extremely depressed and feel the need to. I know I was saved though. I believe that with all my heart that God gave me a second chance at life. And now I’m like the rest of the world who eats ice-cream when they’re sad!

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    4 Responses to Turn your wounds into wisdom.

    1. Tere
      July 8, 2011 at 6:19 pm

      Your strength gives me strength. Thanks for telling your story. I’m glad I saw it.




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    2. Allie
      July 8, 2011 at 9:17 pm

      You have no idea how happy I am to have come across this. I also was, and still am, addicted to cutting myself. I was about the same age when I started, too. Thank you soooo much for sharing this, because it’s helped me to realize that there is a way to escape this. Maybe three years from now, I’ll be on here, writing about how I’m three years clean.

      Once again, thank you. 🙂




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    3. Christa
      July 16, 2011 at 10:13 am

      I got a tattoo on my ribs that says turn your wounds into wisdom. there is always hope xoxo




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    4. sleepy
      October 11, 2011 at 3:49 am

      i love sister. may you find one of mine one day ;). you have my heart always




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