Feeling real. (My Experience of Self Injury)

Member Name: bumb1e

Product:	My Experience of Self Injury
Date:	10/01/02 (65 review reads)
Rating:

Advantages: a coping mechanism.

Disadvantages: It destroys your families and loved ones.

Ok, it all started when I was thirteen.
I'd been getting bullied for a number of years, when I decided to change the school I was in, as the bullying had got just too much for me to handle. Great I thought, a new start, I thought I had finally got away from those who hated me.

When I was twelve I sterted at a new school, only to find out two days later that the brother of one of my previous bullies was in the year above me, in the classroom next to my form room. Soon all his freinds, and their freinds were calling me, and beating on me, worse than it had ever been before.

I was thirteen in the spring of the following year, and things hadn't really died down, apart from my own confidence.
In fact things had just got worse. I did'nt want to admit to my parents what was going on, as I knew that it would upset them. I didn't want to admit to the teachers what was going on, becouse it made me feal inferior. I felt that I had somehow failed, and that I was just being paid my dues.
But I found this hard to accept, so the pressure just got worse, I felt as-though I was going to explode, I no-longer felt real (a feeling which I always had before I would hurt my-self).

I punched my bedroom wall one night in frustration, becouse I was terrified of going to school the next day, and I couldn't get out of it (there are only so many days you can fake being sick). The pain in muy knuckles was intense, I had ruptured the skin, and exposed the bone underneath. I felt satisfacion, I felt good. My mind was clear. I had done this, not someone else. I was in control, not the kids at school, I was causing, and reciveing the pain, the pressure was being released at last, I felt real for a while.

It wasn't long before I picked up the blade for the first time, and no, it wasn't to shave with. The first time I cut and saw the blood flow, it stuck in me like an addiction. Seconds later I cut again, deeper,
and deeper, the more mess the better! Or that's what I thought at the time. I thought I could only feel more real. I lost myself somewhere, I came to and dicovered that I had trashed the room I was in, and done alot of damage to my arm, from just above my left elbow, to my knuckles were covered in cuts and blood.

This became a regular event in my parent's house hold, only gradually getting worse as time went on, injuries spreading accross my body.

When is was fifteen, everthing came to a peak. At school a teacher revealed some extremely confidential information to an entire class of about thirty fifteen year-olds. I lost my rag with him and went into what my parents called one of "Gavin's little episodes". I never have a full memory of these events, often none at all. So, anyway, I threw tables at this guy, chairs, and then went for him with my fists. A good freind jumped in and managed to hold me off for enough time for the teacher to get away. When I came round I discovered that for the first time my self-injury had been directed at another human being(also the only time). I was suspended from school until the end of my final term of my final year. The teacher resigned. Things got worse, but the violence was only directed towards myself.

I attemted suicide on several occasions, only in ways that I knew I could be saved if caught in time. I enjoyed playing these games with my life, I was in control in a more fierce way than ever, or at least I thought I was. In reallity I couldn't have further from the truth.

I ended up in an adolescent psyciatric unit. I stayed there for three and a half months. Here I learnt that I had an abnormal amount of adrenaline in my brain, due to stress. This caused a condition called Adrenaline-distortion, where your memory blanks out becouse of abnormal adrenaline levels. Some people just cry, others get violent with themselves or others, anyway, it is gener
ally destructive. I was given help in coping with stress and anxiety, hence helping my anger management.

I left the Unit, and went straight into college to study photography, and then went on to do my Degree in photography. I have thought about cutting and burning myself on a few occasions, but I've never been able to go through with it.

My flesh is as my father's and mother' s flesh to my Grandparent's flesh. To destroy myself is to destroy them.

It can be like quiting a drug, stopping self-harming. It becomes your prop, a coping mecanism. But it's worth stopping. I may have scars, but it 'aint as bad as stiches and scabs, and I can wear what I want. And f**k anyone who has a problem with my past!!

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