WARNING: Graphic Material- Viewer Discretion Advised.
To conceal the names of the people, the names have been changed
May 2007- Age 15
It all started back when I was in 8th grade. The group of people that I hung out with was the "stoners or druggies" and it seemed like everyone in the whole school hated us, especially me. I have many learning disabilities that make school very difficult for me. I was also the kid getting called “retard” or “dumb shit”. Also I was picked on for my size and weight a lot. I’m 5”4 and 190. There were numerous jokes about me being an oompa loompa and a midget. As many of you know, hearing this stuff day in, and day out can be very hard on someone. Then one day I found out that one of my close friends had been dealing with a lot of setbacks with her family life and she had just went through the passing of her father. A few days later I saw that she had cuts on her wrist. Of course I was worried. After a little bit of talking to her, I found out that she got great enjoyment out of cutting. A few weeks later I had gotten in a fight with my mother about how we were going to pay for sports, so I thought, "hey I’m going to try this out and see if it works?!" Of course like most addictions, I wish that I never would have done what I did that day. The day was May 14th, 2007... A day that I will regret for the rest of my life. The first time that I took a razor to my wrist. It stung a little bit and gave me a very weird feeling. It didn't even feel that good. As the days and weeks passed on, I started doing it more, and more.
June 24th, 2009- Age 17
This when I first started realizing that I was becoming addicted to the pain... I'd have to cut deeper and deeper to get my "high". There would be times where I was very happy and in a good mood at a friends’ house, and go out to my car and cut in the car, just to get my high. It got to the point where I wasn’t depressed; I just needed the control and pain factor of taking a razor or knife to my skin.
Winter 2010- Age 18
During the winter of 2010 when I was in High School swimming season, it was one of the roughest times of “my story” Of course I had to wear a speedo on a daily basis so it was very hard to hide cuts and scars. When swimming season started it made me want to do it more because then I could see how much I could get away with without anyone seeing or noticing. I planned out every cut so that no one would see it, it even got down to the point where I’d do it on the lining of where my suit hit my hip so that it just looked like my suit was tight.
High School-Senior Year
There is one time that I will never forget, I was sitting in a stall in the bathroom in my High School, and I cut so bad that I fainted and someone found me passed out on the floor. To this day I can’t believe that I let an addiction get so bad that I almost killed myself in school just to feel a feeling.
Depression:
While depression runs in my family, I try to make the most out of everything. There was months of extreme depression where I did not want to get out of bed, because I had no motivation to live, or get out of bed. The worse part about this was that I don’t know why I felt like this. Yes I was addicted to cutting but besides the bullying and causing my parent’s divorce there wasn’t really anything that should have been bringing me down on a daily basis before I could get out of bed.
Friend’s Death:
On September 15th 2011 while I was at my fathers’ house, I got a call from my next door neighbor, crying hysterically that he could barely breathe. The only words I could hear were “he’s dead Rob, He’s dead!!” Of course I was immediately thrown off, and asked “who’s dead? What happened?” the voice on the phone said “It’s Pat, he’s gone…” my heart stopped. This was my next door neighbor and best friend since I could remember. For the first couple of hours I was in shock, didn’t know what kind of emotions to feel. Pat was struck by a car while running cross country for school. I tried to hold myself together for my family but when I saw a picture of the smashed car with blood on it, I couldn’t take it anymore. I’ve never cut more in my life, and I didn’t get out of bed for 4 days. This was by far the hardest thing that has ever happened to me.
Pat:
March 7th, 2012 The first thing I did that day was wrote a suicide note to my mother, brother and best friend. This was the day of my last attempted suicide. At 12:26 I was driving from work to school on the expressway and all I could think about was how I don’t deserve to live, how every time I breathe it was a waist because I was going nowhere in life. There were of course 10,000 things running through my head about how I’m not good enough, how I just need to end this so I’m not a burden on everyone else and how much better off the world would be without me. While all of these things were going through my head I started going faster and faster. Finally, I maxed out my truck at about 115 mph. At this point I was about to run off the side of the road into a concrete overpass pillar so if the impact didn’t kill me, the falling bridge would kill me... By this time I had the left two wheels of my truck off the side of the road about to end it all…… but then I heard “What’s up Rob?” I was in the car alone so of course this threw me off.. ( I don’t know any other way to describe it but it was as real as if you and I were sitting right next to each other). Sitting right in the passenger seat was my friend, Pat. He had the smallest lisp when he said my name, and then he proceeded to tell me how I don’t deserve all of this and how I can’t commit suicide because god has big plans for me and how so many people would be affected if I did this. I started crying uncontrollably because this was my best friend, who passed away 6 months prior, was sitting in my front seat with me. At this very moment, without me even touching the steering wheel my car drifted back into the lane. If that’s not life changing then I don’t know what is.
Getting admitted to the hospital:
Later that day, I went back to my house and wrote my mom another note telling her what was going on and how I’ve been cutting for 5 years and that I needed help because I didn’t want to be put back in the same place that I was in on the highway because I don’t know if I’ll be strong enough to pull myself out of it. Later that night we got into my regular doctor, after telling him everything he told me that he would like to have me admitted to the psych ward at the local hospital. This was the last thing that I wanted to hear because hospitals scare the hell out of me. On my way home I was driving and started to break down again and decided that it would be a good time to check myself into a hospital because I couldn’t keep myself safe alone. While I was getting admitted in the room next to me there was a kid my age who died due to a drug overdose, hearing someone my own age die even before I get admitted was very eye opening for me. After getting admitted and signing all the paperwork I got in my bed, of course scared out of my damn mind. The first night, I didn’t sleep at all. The first day was by far the hardest out of all 7 weeks I was in the hospital. Some of the things that I saw there, you wouldn’t believe. I found a bag of heroin stuffed under the bed in my room. Some of the other things that I saw there were people shooting up, cutting and doing lines of cocaine off the tables. Since I was addicted to cutting, not having it caused me to have withdrawal symptoms. The first two nights I didn’t sleep at all, and I’d shake and have hard time breathing. After a few days these started to get better.. After 12 days I got transferred to a hospital that specialized in cutting/self-injury, it was a lot more fitting. Don’t get me wrong, the hospital stays were the best thing that happened to me and without a doubt saved my life, but I don’t want to downplay the stuff that can happen. Recovery isn’t easy, but it is worth it.
Day 51- Getting discharged!
On the 51st day of me being in the hospital I was discharged to my family! It was nerve racking being back in the “real world” after being locked up inside for 51 days. It was such a relief though, knowing that I had gone 51 days without cutting! This was just the start of how many days I can do!
The end!
It has now been 106 days so far since I have cut myself! While I still do have strong urges to cut, they are getting more manageable with time. And for me, trying to help all of you guys that took the time to read this, is AWESOME! I really do appreciate all the support that the people have been giving me via Instagram and Twitter! It means a lot!
Just remember,
Recovery isn’t easy, but it is worth it!
Thanks,
Rob
