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Her Story: I Tried to Cut Myself

*Trigger warning: This article contains information about self-harm and suicidal thoughts, which may be triggering to survivors.

I don’t know why I did it. Maybe there were a million reasons to do it then, but when I look back now, I can’t think of one.  

I do remember being alone and scared. No one was at home. It was in the late afternoon and I had just gotten home from school (I was in my sophomore year of high school). The house was silent, and I found that comforting since no one would be able to stop me from grabbing a knife from the kitchen and running to my mother’s bathroom.  

I remember shutting the door behind me and not looking at myself in the mirror. My eyes glazed over the blade of the knife and I wondered how it would feel. Would I feel any pain? Probably not compared to what I was feeling at the moment. The smell of Japanese Cherry Blossom overwhelmed me as I continued to stare at the knife against my skin, something that I will always think about.  

I remember the blade digging into my skin, but never cutting it. I remember being frustrated at myself, things, life, people and trying again. And again. And again. I could see white marks from the blade, but my blood stayed inside my body.  

I remember throwing the knife into the sink and crying. I cried for what seemed like hours before peeling myself away from the bathroom and what I tried to do. The house was still silent when I left the bathroom, and for the rest of the day, I tried to keep a smile on my face.  

I’ve never told my mother about that day. There have been moments when I felt safe enough to say the words out loud, but the memory always catches up to me.  

Looking back when I tried to cut myself, I wish I could knock on the door of the bathroom and hug the person that I was. I would say that this moment will not last forever and to keep holding on. It may be cliché but isn’t it the truth?  

I don’t know everyone’s story of cutting themselves or trying to. If I did, I would say that they are stronger than the metal blade that they held in their hand. They are bigger than the moment their skin was split into two and blood poured through. They are braver because of it.  

If the moment isn’t far from the present then, remember that your life is precious. Every hour, minute, second is gifted time and you are making progress. Take a deep breath and let it go. 

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UCF Contributor
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