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Hey, I am here to help myself through the struggle and to discuss my thoughts and just get it out. It feel selfish but I know I will be trying to contribute where I can too.


A little more about myself in the bad sense.


When i was younger I was molested twice and once I am certain it was my uncle, but I'm not sure. It's hard to come to terms with it since it happened within my own home a longgggg time ago. My father and mother split when I was about 8 years old because my dad was dying. My parents decided for my sanity and financials that splitting up was best. Turns out my mother resorted to substance abuse for her depression and then to drinking. My dad was hardly around after the split because he just didn't want me to see how much he was withering away. My mom and I actually moved in with family and the sad thing is they knew my mom had these problems and they never ever tried to help. They only ever made me clean her up and make sure she stayed within our living area of the house. I was also responsible for our meals and shopping needs. Nothing was ever given to us outside of giving my mom more time to get rent money. I was mostly responsible for myself from a very young age. I was lucky that my mother felt some sort of need to put me in school when she was sober enough. I rarely participated in activities outside of school or hanging out with friends because my mother needed to be tended to and I would never hear the end of it if she were passed out in the wrong part of the house. I was a very bright kid and I was supposed to skip 2 grades :P Unfortunately, my mom never let that happen. She said I needed time to mature and socialize appropriately. Unfortunately, preventing me from skipping grades never helped that.


Despite having lost a majority of what should have been happier years for myself I've forgiven my mom, but I can't find any way to become a softer person towards her. I feel responsible for her and nothing more than that. I try my best to feel love and I can honestly say I don't feel it. I am definitely hardened towards most of my family, but I do still try to be a part of things with them. Family is blood and blood is supposed to be thicker than water. Right? lol It's just the life some of us are handed and I accept mine now.


When I was in middle school I got my real first taste of self inflicted pain. I started buying blades and concealing them in the lining of my backpack. On bus rides home I'd sit in the back, away from others and just run blades across any part of my body. My bus driver caught me one time and took all my blades. He told me that things got better and that he'd keep things between us, but I don't think he knew what to do past that because he never said anything again. Back then I didn't know why i liked it. I wanted to convince myself that at any moment I was ready to take my own life. That slicing myself to ribbons was just me preparing for my final days. I wanted to be done with my responsibilities. I wanted to be free of taking care of problems that should not be my own. The only thing that really held me back when I was younger was the fact that I felt so much pity and guilt for leaving my mother. In the complete lack of love and near complete lack of care, somehow I felt something for her. I think I also hated my extended family for ignoring us, so to spite them I continued to exist.


In high school all my efforts in trying to remain composed in front of friends at school started to fall apart. I started feeling like i could open up more and it just happened so quickly. I never let people in and it felt good and so wrong at the same time. Everything I talked about may've been too much for my friends at the time and I felt like they started walking on egg shells around me. To save them the trouble of not knowing what to do I started to avoid them. I stuck to myself and stopped eating regularly. Sometimes I would just cut and not look... as if I were playing with my hair but instead it was a blade and my skin... I was very very frustrated one time and I stabbed my wrist and someone saw it. I always sat behind a building and it was well concealed. So it was honestly the worst luck. I bled a lot but I didn't think I was going to die. The kid thought I was going to die so he took me to the nurses office and she called the counselors and yada yada... Just so you all know, I was right. I wasn't going to die and it clotted up not long after seeing the nurse. This landed me a week in a hospital. I hated being confined in the hospital and told what to do by everyone. For so long I was the only one in my life who decided when I would eat and when i would sleep. Now I was being told I had to finish so much of my meal before I could leave the cafeteria and told that bedtime was at 930. I was forced to sit in a room with other kids who had problems and mental illnesses I had never heard of. At the same time I think I liked it. It had been a long time since someone correctly cooked me a meal and watched over me. It had been a very long long time. When I left I felt like maybe, just maybe I could feel like that again. Feel more normal?


Through therapy and lots of meditation I found that my reason for cutting is control. I can control so many other things in my life but I could never harness my feelings on the inside. Outside I'd usually have the best act going for whatever situation. On the inside it just felt like everything was breaking down and being pulled down into some hole in my stomach. Sometimes I would feel like I needed to cry, but I have issues with crying because my mom threw a hot frying pan at me when I was younger. She did a lot of things like that when I cried and was younger. I learned to suppress my feelings externally but never learned how to just get rid of them... CUTTING provided control and focus. I'd imagine myself unzipping and my blood was just a flood of contained emotions just ebbing and dripping out of me and that's would be my focus. Sometimes I would think so much and worry about how much I might have done wrong for the day. It felt good and I was handling my inner turmoil. For a while I actually made cut open old cuts for repetitive feelings I felt were dumb. I had a deep scar for social anxiety which I suffered from but rarely showed. I would cut into the same spot on my arm so many times to remind myself how dumb the anxiety was. 

I am still strongly independent and my friends are many but my close and more sociable friends are few. Quantity is not everything but my closest friend I see once a year, maybe twice. I have managed to maintain a relationship with a woman who will be my wife once money and time permits. She is definitely a light in my life and I do not want to trouble her with my deeper and darker problems. She doesn't handle them well and she practically faints at the thought of blood. I notice I am sometimes very cold towards her and unresponsive. It bothers her to the point where it causes arguments. I am here because I am starting to lose control of myself. I've had sleepless nights. I can't focus. More and more I feel like I'm falling back on darker times. I haven't cut in 3 years but I crave that feeling of release a lot.



It's a lot to read, but it'll give you some insight on where I'm coming from. I know I need help now and this is just the first step of many.

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Hello and Welcome to Crazyboards!


Please take a minute to check out the rules (in the bottom right hand corner of the screen) to ensure we're all on the same page.


Its very difficult when you are forced to be the caretaker of a parent.  Your childhood gets taken away from you and that is extremely distressing.  Have you seen a therapist to try to work through some of this?  Do you currently have a psychiatrist?


You should be proud of yourself for not cutting for three years.  That takes a lot of willpower on your part.


Please don't hesitate to contact a member of the staff if you have any questions or concerns.

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