Vent Stories

Self Injury.

A year ago, I was with my family at Roosters. On one side of the table was my sister and her boyfriend, the other side was my boyfriend and I. My mother sat at the end of the table between my sister and I. I was wearing a tank top, which showed my shoulders.
Mid conversation with my sister my mother asks me,

"What's on your shoulder?".

I froze wondering what I was supposed to say in that situation, but instead of saying anything I shrugged my shoulders and went back to my conversation with my sister.

On the way to school about a week after the family dinner, my mother is talking to me about my brother.

"With your brother, I didn't know what all he was going through until years later when he mentioned things to me."

I nod my head.

She continues, "Sometimes I see the signs too late. Like the healed cuts on your shoulder...".

My stomach drops, I feel extremely nauseous.

"The reason I am bringing this up to you, is because I want you to be careful. At least do it when I'm home, in case something were to happen. If you cut too deep you can open an artery and lose a lot of blood.".

Suddenly my mood changes. My mother didn't react the way I wanted, or expected. She didn't tell me to stop cutting myself, or sign me up for therapy, or ask me simple questions on why I do it. Instead she just told me to do it while she's home. It's a bit odd, finding out your kid cuts themself and pretty much doesn't give a shit about it..

To this day, I am struggling with cutting myself. Last year I got into what I thought was a healthy relationship. I was clean from self harm for 11 months. I was really happy until I found out a lot of shit that the boy was doing behind my back. Then of course, I relapsed. I dyed my hair, cried daily, even broke up with him after a couple months of dealing with shit on my own. I recently got back together with him, but that's a whole other story to explain.

Now I am in therapy, and have been for about 6 months or so. About a month ago I told my mom I was having suicidal thoughts, really bad anxiety, and self harm issues. Everything was fine, we talked about the stuff for hours. Then the next morning I woke up to her yelling downstairs telling me I have an emergency therapy appointment. Mom said she was considering sending me off to a mental hospital, but she decided against it because her parents did the same to her. Now here I am questioning if i should go to one, because im worse than i ever have been.

I wish people cared enough to ask me how i'm doing.

I wish they were genuine about it.

I want people to notice I'm at my all time low, and I need help getting out of it.

I NEED HELP.

I NEED SOMEONE TO NOTICE.

I need someone.