self injury

“I Keep Cutting Myself and I Can’t Stop!”

What Is Self-Injury or Self-Mutilation?

Self-injury is not something people talk about very often, but for an estimated 2 to 3 million Americans it is a serious problem. The majority of people who self-injure are women between the ages of 13 and 30, but there are “cutters” of every age, gender, and economic group.

People who “self-injure” are not usually suicidal. They do however, intentionally inflict injuries upon themselves, usually in response to stress or trauma. Their injuries may vary from minor cuts that heal quickly to very serious wounds that leave permanent scars. This is also known as “Deliberate Self-Harm Syndrome”.

If you or someone you know self-injures, please get professional help right away. This is just an overview of a very complex myriad of syndromes.

Self-injury usually indicates that somewhere during development that person didn’t learn good ways of coping with overwhelming feelings or stress. They’re not sick or insane; they just never learned positive ways to deal with feelings and emotions for various reasons. Positive coping skills can be learned at any point in life. People who self-injure can learn to use new and healthier coping mechanisms. This process may take years to develop with the help of a skilled therapist familiar with this condition.

arms b&w The late Princess Diana’s word’s shocked the world when she admitted in a television interview that she intentionally cut her arms and legs and had thrown herself down a flight of stairs on more than one occasion. FINALLY, self-injury — the practice of deliberately cutting, scratching, burning, or otherwise injuring one’s own body — was about to come out of the closet. After that interview thousands of self-injury survivors called or wrote the media in response to that interview in just the United States alone.

bladeCutting seems to be the most common type of self-injury. “Cutters” often use razors, utility knives, scissors, needles, broken glass, or whatever they find to make repetitive slices on their arms, legs or other body parts. Some people burn themselves with cigarettes or lighters, others pull out their own hair. Many people who self-injure say they do it because they normally feel “numb” and cutting helps them to “feel alive.” Others talk about the “sense of control” they may get from self-injury. This may be the first time or thing that they have felt a sense of control in their lives. Most agree that incidents of self-injury are triggered by stress and anxiety.

Self-injury is usually kept secret, and the “cutter” often feels deep shame and guilt from this ritual. People who self-injure are at risk for infections if their wounds are not treated properly. Permanent scarring can also result from self-injury and often does. Many people who self-injure wear long pants, long-sleeved shirts, and turtlenecks even in warm weather to conceal the marks they’ve left on their own bodies.

Why Do People Self-Injure?

This problem is not completely understood by health care professionals or psychologists. It seems to be most common among people who have been sexually abused as children, molested as children, or by survivors of incest .

Whatever the context or reason, self-injury seems to function as a coping mechanism. “Cutters” use self-harm to feel calm, “in control,” or just to “feel something.” However, self-injury is not a healthy coping mechanism – it is a self-destructive behavior that probably reflects deeper, more complicated mental health or personal problems. (See the end of this article for some quotes and “stories” of people who self-injure).

Some Common Factors of Self-Injury

  • Age of onset between 10 – 16 years old
  • There was a major change in the teen’s life — parents divorce or death
  • There is a history of family violence, abuse or sexual abuse
  • Intense feelings of fear, hurt, anger, rejection or abandonment
  • Feelings of loss and or need for control

Some Common Reasons Why People Cut Themselves
These are some of the reasons our readers who “cut” shared with us.

They find it soothing:
To feel pain on the outside instead of the inside
To cope with feelings
To express anger towards themselves
To feel alive and real

A way of communicating what they can’t say with words:
To tell people they need help
To get people’s attention
To tell people they should be in hospital

An attempt to get people to react to their actions:
To get people to care for them
To make other people feel guilty
To drive people away
To get away from stress and responsibility
To manipulate situations or people

Triggering Events Reported by Young Adults Who Self-Injure:

Being rejected by someone who is important to them
Being blamed for something over which they had no control
Feeling inadequate
Being “wrong” in some way

RECOVERY

People who self-injure can learn to use new and healthier coping mechanisms. This process may take years to develop. It also is important to get help from a therapist who specialized in self-injury. He or she can help the person figure out what lies behind the urge to cut or injure. New coping mechanisms may include exercising, painting, writing, yoga or dancing instead of hurting oneself. A process that involves self-expression is often helpful. Whatever works as an alternative method of coping with the feelings of anxiety or stress or “numbness” is often a good start toward recovery.

If you hurt yourself intentionally, remember you are not alone. You might think that this behavior makes you a “weird,” but you can see from the statistics that it is more common than you thought. Talk to a counselor, therapist or your health care provider, chances are they’ve helped others with this same problem. Whatever pain or bad experiences underlie your urge to self-injure, a professional can help you to heal, both inside and out.

See: The Benefits of Anger Management and Anger Control


The following was sent to us from a teen who wanted to share her “story” of self-mutilation with Teen Health Secrets readers. Kandy is a bright, articulate, creative teenager, “normal” teenager, except for this one “thing” in her life. She sent this to us so that more people might understand self-mutilation and self-injury. Thank you Kandy! You were the first person to write to Teen Health Secrets to share your experience with others.

The next 2 pages of self-injury quotes were sent to us after this article was originally one of the “Topics of The Month” for November 2000. We continue to get letters from teens & adults who want to share the experiences of self-injury. Thank you to all for being so brave and for helping with awareness.


My Story – from ” Kandy” (Age 16)

I started self-mutilating when I was five years old. I’m not sure how it started, but I was consistently pulled my eyelashes out all through the years. My mother would tell me “Stop that or your eyelashes will be bald someday”. I laughed at the thought, until one day it came true.

In elementary school, I used to get so stressed out about school and none of my friends being in the same school (I was a social reject in my school) I would come home and hit my head against the wall and stab myself with my pencil.

When I was in 6th grade, my father died, and things got much worse. My mother was too depressed to really notice my depression, and the rest of my family never really noticed either. Emotions you wouldn’t believe built up inside me as that same year my Grandmother died. Also, my 2 dogs died (one being only a puppy).

The following year, two good family friends died of car accidents and cancer, and my friend I had just met committed suicide. Things got even worse.

My biggest mistake? I never cried and after a while, I wasn’t able to cry.

In 7th grade, I experimented with hanging myself, but used a cheap piece of string from my ceiling fan. Needless to say; it broke.

Eighth grade, the cutting started. I started cutting my left wrist (the top, not the bottom, so people wouldn’t get suspicious) with a Swiss army knife. One day, I cut too deep. I probably could have fit my index finger into the laceration. I was taken to the clinic in the worst blizzard in years by my mom (She is so great to me, I love her).

The only thing that kept me from a mental hospital was that I lied and told them (and mom, who found out the real story later) that I had cut my wrist on the bathroom counter. You know what they said at the clinic? “Sharp Counter.” Right.

I didn’t get stitches, but I did get a large bandage on my wrist for a while. I told the lie to everyone, and they believed it. After that, I found my knife had disappeared mysteriously from my drawer and so then I played with a pin, making boat designs and smiley faces on …my arms. I played with death too, putting a belt on the rail in my closet and putting my neck through, letting myself get close enough to dying in that my heart pounded in my head and I heard voices.

Finally, in 9th grade, I made the mistake of cutting myself with a razor and telling the school counselor what had happened. Well, my mom was told, and that was the end of that. She and I and my brother had a family meeting, and I have to stay clear of razors, etc. or else. I am in counseling once every two weeks now. I was on Prozac (I quit .. didn’t help me much) but I am now trying to keep away from anything self-destructive.

So now… my eyelashes have started growing back and I can cry sometimes.

Kandy, Age 16 – (Somewhere in the USA, 2000)


More Quotes From Readers:

“I hurt myself for different reasons, depending on my state of mind. I do it sometimes as a way to get relief from the pain I am feeling inside. Other times I do because at the time I feel I deserve to be punished, or I am angry at myself, but really I think someone else. Other times I do it to “shout out” to the world that I need help and here is the proof. I am a incest survivor, so I think that it’s some of the pain that I have had to live with trying to escape my body. (Dianne, Age 30, Canada)

“I cut myself because I feel so much pain inside that I need a way to release it all. So by cutting myself, it acts as an outlet for that l pain, I guess, somehow. It feels like it’s all running out of me when I see myself bleeding. I know that probably sounds gross to most people who don’t do this. Yes, I am in group therapy for people who self-injure”. (Chrissy, Age 17, USA)

Resources:

1-800 DON’T-CUT (800-366-8288)
SAFE Alternatives Program

The Cutting Edge (A Newsletter)
P.O. Box 20819
Cleveland, OH 44120

Self-Injury: You Are Not The Only One
Contains definitions, causes, demographics, therapeutic approaches and more.

Self-Injury.org
Help for self-injury, depression, suicidal thoughts, message board and links.

“Self-Mutilation” in Psychiatry — One Patients View
A personal story of self-injury, information and links.

I’ve gotten so many letters from teens and adults who self-injure that I added a second page of quotes from their letters, with permission of course. Hopefully this might help people who are in emotional pain share their feelings with others and realize that there is help for this condition AND that you are not the only person who is “cutting”. Thanks again to everyone who sent me their letters. ~ Amy, President, Teen Health Secrets ~

WARNING: Some of this content may be disturbing to read and may ‘trigger’ memories in some people.


I am 17 years old now, and I have suffered over the years with depression and self harm. I have been to therapists and mental hospitals along the way, but nothing helped. Cutting was an addiction. I liked doing it.

It got so bad eventually that I couldn’t stop until my arms were a mutilated mess! I had no problems with infection ( I took care of them) but my head was always spinning. I feel cutting to me was like a smoker with a carton of cigarettes, only in my case the cigarettes were razors. Now I am OK, one day the urge just went away. I am being treated with medication in which I am slowly being taken off of. It’s been over a year for me and “cutting” and there are times when I want to, but then I look at the scared parts of my body, it just tells me not to do it….and I don’t.

I have learned greatly, and although I hated talking to therapists, I still got my words out, whether it be paper, or a close friend. Venting is a part of life. * Tip, a counselor once told me to put an ice pack on my wrist, to calm the feeling when it got really bad, like a nicotine patch slowly getting you down (metaphorically speaking) well I hope this will help some one out there. – Cassie from Massachusetts –


My name is Natasha and I am a “cutter”. I used to cut for the attention, but now I can’t stop. Sometimes I catch myself before I get to far, but sometimes I don’t. My mom caught me when I was cutting right before the 6th grade, but she doesn’t know that I still am cutting. The cut I had made the day my mom caught me is now a lifelong scar that will never go away. I was about 10 when I started, now I am 13. I try to stop, I even have my best friend trying to help me, but I just can’t. I used to cut only once every month or two, but now it is getting more serious. I’ll cut after school, before bed, really whenever I get the chance. I know I need help, but this is the way it is. – Natasha, Age 13 –


When I was in 6th grade I started cutting, I thought it was cool. I only did it once or twice then because I was afraid that I would hurt my mom. That was when I realized that I did not have to cut only my arms or wrists. When I moved to a new school I started cutting again, I told my self that it was art because I made designs (pentagrams, circles, names, etc.) that some other people I know liked. When my sister came out that she made herself throw-up I could not keep my “dirty little secret” any more. I was sent to therapy, but I resented it from the onset. She fired me because I told her I was playing with her mind. I stopped cutting for a while almost a year, but then I met my now ex-boyfriend. He was into the whole blood drinking thing, and that got me started again. The thing that changed me, that made want to stop was when he cut himself 8 inches along his ribs and it was nearly a centimeter deep. I am now actively in therapy and I am still having the urge, but I know I have people who I can talk to. I take things a day at a time now. – Eve, Age 15, USA –


I first cut myself when I was 17. I woke up feeling depressed and out of control, but I needed to pull it together and go to school, so I just grabbed the scissors off of my desk and hacked away at my arms. I don’t know why I did that, but it made me feel better. The cuts weren’t very deep and didn’t bleed too much but they hurt, and the physical pain helped me regain control. For the next while I continued to cut my arms and legs. I used sharper objects, but not razor blades – I wanted the pain, not large scars. A few months later I slashed my wrists open in a lame suicide attempt and ended up in the psychiatric ward for the first time. Ever since then I have been cutting/burning/hitting myself on and off. I can go a couple of months without doing anything only to go on a binge for the next several months. It depends how things are going at the time.

I am now 25 years old and I am going through a binge period. My arms are covered with burn marks (I look like I have a really odd case of the measles), my head is bloody and bruised from knocking it against brick walls, and my legs are covered with scars made with various sharp implements. I carve words into my legs now.

Currently you can read “miserable c–t”, “give up”, “ugly”, “fat”, “I hate myself”, “I am a failure”, “lazy”, “I am dead” and “evil”, in my legs. I have grown more fond of razor blades. I usually do a mix of things when I cut. I cut myself with duller blades that hurt more, and then with razor blades to watch the blood.

Cutting was always my secret, although my parents found out in high school when I was brought home drunk by the cops. But I told them I stopped, and they believed me. Now they’ve found out again and I’m back seeing shrinks.

I’ve been diagnosed with a “borderline personality”, which is untrue in my opinion, but your opinion never counts once they’ve shuffled you into the psychiatric wing. Now I’m just doing my time in therapy until I’ve served my sentence. I don’t want to stop cutting. It’s the only thing that makes me feel better. It’s better and faster than drugs. When I cut I’m in control, and I can cut as much and as deep as I want. I can burn myself as many times as I please. They may not allow me to kill myself, but they can’t take this away from me.

Wherever I go I carry something sharp on me. I cut or burn at least once a day. I only wear dark pants, because they hide blood stains the best. My room is a mess of razor blades and knives. Tranquilizers and antidepressants. Sleeping pills and pot. None of it works. I am never happy, I am never satisfied. I can neither harm myself as much as I deserve nor bleed the anger and resentment out of my body. So, I go over my suicide plan for the hundredth time hoping that some day I’ll be able to carry it out. Some day, but not yet – I can’t bring myself to do that to my father. My plan is perfect: quick, painless, clean, and lethal. But for now I just hurt myself. I hurt myself because I feel so shitty that I want to die but I can’t let myself do that yet. I hurt myself because I am so angry I know that if I don’t hurt myself I’ll start destroying things, and I hate it when I do that.

People notice when you put your foot through walls or break windows. Nobody notices if you slash your legs open. I don’t want people to notice me. I don’t want people to know. I don’t want to cause trouble or worry. I want to be quiet. I want to be invisible. I know that all of my problems are my fault. I know that cutting is just a bad coping mechanism. I am a weak person and I can’t deal with life. I don’t believe that I’m mentally ill, I just need to get a grip and grow up. But I know I won’t. I don’t want to. I don’t see the point. – USA, Age 25 –


I started when I was 7. My mom always thought that it was me falling off of the swings and getting cut on the playground stuff there. But I would stay inside and cut myself with paper clips. Then one day I stopped, I didn’t even think about it for a long time. When I started the 6th grade, I met one of my best friends. She was always happy and you would never see her not smiling. That was the year that I got my first 70 in anything. And I cut myself. I though of it as a punishment. Then through out the year I would cut myself. It was only in places where nobody would see, like my ankles, upper arms, thighs, stomach, and sometimes my bikini line. She found out and I told her that I would stop, and then she moved. That was my 7th grade year. I didn’t want that year to end because she was moving. I had attempted to kill myself by cutting my wrists and my neck. (Luck for me I have not a single scar on my neck). My 8th grade year went by like nothing. Every few days I would cut myself if I felt that I was “bad” or just out of boredom. And now in my 9th grade year, I started to cut again. I got a boyfriend and he didn’t know anything about SI. (I was a whole new experience to him.) He one day found out because I had cut my lip with a pin and he started to get worried. A few days later he checked my ankles and saw scars and fresh cuts. I told him that I would do that because I was bored, scared, being “bad” or I didn’t know how to handle the pressure. And he just looked at me. Then in March I started again and he found out that night. The very next day I wrote him a note saying I was sorry and I hope that he can forgive me. He told me to promise on his life and our relationship. I couldn’t do that so I promised on my life. When he looked at my ankle for the first time he saw scars of lines, hearts, words (en. I HATE MYSELF, DIE, F*** YOU), and he saw pain. He felt what I was going through, but he knew how to handle it. So far I have gone 3 months without cutting. I think about it, but I won’t. Because I promised MY life on it. ~ RaVeN Age 15 Texas, USA ~

I’ve gotten so many letters from teens and adults who self-injure that I added a third page of quotes from their letters, with permission of course. Hopefully this might help people who are in emotional pain share their feelings with others and realize that there is help for this condition AND that you are not the only person who is “cutting”. Thanks again to everyone who sent me their letters. ~ Amy, President, Teen Health Secrets

WARNING: Some of this content may be disturbing to read or my trigger memories in those who have been abused or those who self-injure.


My parents divorced when I was 3 … from then on my life was a living hell . I was sexually abused by my brothers friend more then once … I never told anyone .. I didn’t know what he was doing was wrong … or I did .. and I blocked it out of my head . Then on day when I was 11 I was talking to my cousin who was then 13 . She was talking about her real father and how he use to sexually abuse her .. I’d never asked for details or about things she remembered but that night I did … and all at once these memories just came back to me . Memories about my brothers friend (he sexually abused me … made me feel bad enough to give him permission {I was 6 or 7} … and then laughed when I would tell him to stop) , my dad (he’s a heavy drinker{enough said}) , my brothers(they were physically violent) , and my dads’ friends(they were very touchy but never like my brothers friend , they never did everything he did) . I was shocked at what I remembered … I was never the same after that night . I started cutting when I was 12 … it felt so great to see blood roll down my arms … just like it feels great to look into the mirror and watch tears slide down my face …. it makes me remember I’m alive . Which sometimes I tend to forget . I started having sex when I was 12 .. I started smoking .. and drinking when I was 12 . I even started smoking weed when I was 12 … yep everything started when I was in the 7th grade . . . I’m in therapy … and I’ve been put on 2 antidepressants … I quit taking both …. I can’t drink with them .. it made me sick …. Its kind of sad , well actually really sad , to think that someone had pleasure over taking away my innocence … someone out there that probably doesn’t even remember doing this to me and has probably done this to other girls and maybe even little boys haunts me to this day . Its sad to think that I’m not strong enough to deal with my past so I make myself feel better by having sex or doing drugs . I wish I could tell you this story has a happy ending .. that I’m not having sex … not doing drugs … in depression recovery therapy .. but the end to this story is that I’m in therapy … off any meds I was ever put on … still depressed … still cutting … still having sex .. and still denying my past . In 3 and 1/2 months I’m going to have a baby … and I’m going to get to look into my child’s eyes and I’m not going to be able to promise my baby that she will have a good life , a promising future , or a family that will support her . I’m going to have to look into that baby’s eyes and say that I have problems … and that I can’t promise that I will be able to protect her from the world .. and that the reality about her mother is that I’m clueless as to what life is all about … and that I can hardly take care of myself and now I’m taking on the responsibility of a baby … of my baby … I’m going to have to look in her eyes and tell her that all I can promise her about her future is that I will always love her . I wish I could tell her that I have a college fund for her or that her father will also always be there for her or even that I’ll always know exactly what to do and what to say to her … but I don’t . Meghan, Age 13, USA <3 TO THE BABY INSIDE ME , SKYLAR JADE , I LOVE ! YOU <3

I’m eighteen and I’m going away to college in three weeks, and I never thought I would be able to, I thought I’d be dead by now. My first memory in life involves blood. I was three and my mom smacked me and I got a bloody nose. I remember it all with a clarity that is somewhat disturbing- the thickness of the blood, it’s warmth, how it made my mouth sticky. The first memory of myself causing the injury, though, was when I was eight. I thought I was a very bad girl for some reason and I would kneel on sharp objects and pray the rosary quite often. I quit doing that for awhile. Then, when I was twelve I started stabbing myself with needles. I just wanted to see how much pain I could take, and my skin kind of fascinated me. That same year I developed an eating disorder. I bounced back and forth between anorexia and bulimia, but never cut myself again until my sophomore year of high school, when I was fifteen. I was very upset, and it scared me, how angry I was. I wanted to come down but I couldn’t, and I cut my leg with a knife to try to bring myself back to reality. It worked really well, oddly enough. From then on, I began cutting more and more frequently, using scissors, razors, knives, and even biting myself, anything to draw blood and bring me back down out of that scary numbness. When I was seventeen, I cut my arm with scissors and immediately knew I’d gone too far. The wound was huge and gaping and I’d obviously hit a blood vessel. It was winter, and I left my two little sisters at home alone and drove in the ice to the emergency room by myself. I made a mess of blood all over the place, and by the time I got there I’d lost so much I felt strange. They gave me stitches and a big bandage/sling thing and the next day admitted me to a mental hospital. I was actually relieved to be in there, because there was no way I could hurt myself. I didn’t cut the whole week I was there, but when I got out I started again. I got into therapy, though, and things got a lot better. I’m not nearly as depressed or scared as I was then. I’m still in therapy but only once every two weeks. I also take an antidepressant and a stimulant (I found out I have ADHD). I haven’t cut in about two months, which is very good for me. I no longer have an eating disorder either. I still have scars, though, and I always will. I get nervous about meeting people because I get lots of stares at my arms and legs (I also am scarred on my stomach), and people can be really insensitive. But I know that no one would deliberately be rude like that, they just don’t understand. So that’s why I wrote this letter. If you see scars on someone, please understand that that person is doing the best they can, and they probably feel very alone and scared. And while you may be curious, they probably won’t feel like answering any questions, at least not right off the bat. Understand that there is a lot more to that person than self-injury, but also keep in mind that it is (or, hopefully, was) a part of their life, and try to be sensitive to that. And on their account, thank you. Anonymous, Age 18

I’ve gotten so many letters from teens and adults who self-injure that I added a fourth page from a letter I received, with permission of course. Hopefully this might help people who are in emotional pain share their feelings with others and realize that there is help for this condition AND that you are not the only person who is “cutting”. Thanks again to everyone who sent me their letters. ~ Amy, President, Teen Health Secrets ~

WARNING: Some of this content may be disturbing to read or my trigger memories in those who have been abused or those who self-injure. It is intended to educate, but may be upsetting.


At the age of 46 I was drying off after taking a shower. While drying my genitals I saw blood coming out of my penis. Not large amounts gushing, but not a small amount either. Not like urinating blood, but it was bleeding significantly. But there was no damage, there was no feeling of damage or blood. It was just visual, and lasted only a fraction of a second. It was an extremely clear visual. I kind of reacted like “what the heck?”, and on examining myself found there was no blood, zero zip.

All day I was wondering “what the heck was that all about”. It seemed very familiar, but at the same time totally foreign, I’d never had anything like that happen before, especially not in reality. It seemed so familiar that it bothered me. I was missing something, but couldn’t figure out what, or even why I felt so strong about it. Not scared, just confused.

Over the course of several days, it happened a couple more times. When I would urinate. The urine wasn’t there momentarily, there was a snapshot of blood coming out of my penis as if it were really bleeding bad, but not like a stream of urine, like an injury of some type.

The feeling of familiarity progressively got stronger over those couple days, but in reality seemed totally unreal to me.

I decided to try something I’d been taught previously. I sat down on pillows, surrounded by pillows, and made myself comfortable physically, but sat erect. I closed my eyes and cleared my mind for several minutes. Then, with my eyes closed, I focused on the “picture” of the blood. There were no feelings, just curiosity. I looked at it from different angles. I was well aware of the danger of creating memories. I did not focus on memory. I paid attention to my body’s senses, and just kept examining the “picture”, wondering why it was familiar. In my mind’s eye, I unintentionally started a slide show of my past, wondering where I had seen this “picture” before.

I had been a police officer for 19 years at the time, and had seen lots of trauma, seeing blood was a regular everyday occurrence while on the job. Never bothered me. That’s just the way it was. Didn’t like it, but didn’t dislike it. Like a gardener working around wet dirt, it was a part of the job. But this thing felt familiar, to me.

I knew I had childhood trauma issues. Exactly what I didn’t know. Memory prior to age 9 was very little. It regards to my mom, it was nonexistent. I still don’t remember her, in any way. It’s as if she never existed, even though I have photos and have been told stories. It’s all blank.

Knowing all of this, I was careful just to stay with the present, and let the slide show go where it may. After maybe 10 minutes, I remembered something that had happened. The slide show had stopped, and I remembered something. It didn’t have anything to do with anything I saw in the slide show. Something I did when I was 16-17 yrs old.

I was living in a built on house behind my grandmother’s home. By myself. Being a teen with advancing hormones, I had discovered masturbation years earlier. There were a series of incidents over a couple years where I would masturbate alone, while shaving off my pubic hair and applying iodine all over my genitals. I’d then insert a glass rod up into my urethra while still masturbating. This had hurt pretty bad, but I would insert the glass rod as far as I could. When this happened I was sexually stimulated, but not the usual visions in my mind of girls. My mind would go blank, and be totally focused on what I was doing to myself. There was no climax, I would just keep doing it until it hurt so bad I had to stop. After stopping, I would sleep.

I was in high school at the time, and because of what I had done to myself, I wouldn’t shower in the locker room with other guys. I felt so embarrassed I stopped going to the P.E. class. This was 10th grade, and even though P.E. was mandatory, I’d get scheduled for it but I never went back. All I would say is that I didn’t want too, no explanation.

I kept repeating the self harm about once or twice a week, gradually increasing to 4 or 5 times a week. Same behavior each time. After a couple years I stopped. I don’t remember why. I didn’t care about the pain. I stopped because it was no longer an interest. I didn’t panic over the behavior, I thought it was just a part of the masturbation and that I had grown out of it. I’d never done anything like it before, nor anything like it since. I’ve always remembered it, but just never thought anything about it other than I was weird sometimes.

Back to 46 yrs old. When I recalled the behavior from when I was a teen at the time I was thinking about the “picture”, it didn’t fit. That wasn’t it. But I had a feeling that both had to do with something else. I got up and went on with the day, still wondering “what the heck is it”.

Over the course of the next couple days I had the “picture” come back once or twice, usually drying after a shower. I’d talked to my psychiatrist about it, and had already learned to let these type of things have their place, not to worry about them or panic about them. It wasn’t reality, so it was ok.

During these 2 weeks I had other senses join the “picture”. Not at the same times as the picture. I would smell blood. I knew/know that smell well, and thought my mind was pulling the smell from elsewhere in my mind. Then there was the feeling in my genitals out of nowhere that I was wet. Several times I had to look to make sure, it was so real.

I felt it was time to sit down again, and focus on my senses and the “picture”. So I did. It started as before, and on it’s own, the slide show started. It’s hard to describe. I didn’t start it intentionally, it was just there. I watched it play back memories as if watching a movie and eating popcorn. Each slide I’d examine for a time, then it would change. I wasn’t changing the slides cognitively. I don’t doubt my mind was doing it to itself, but I didn’t have the remote control to change the pictures. I paid close attention to my senses the entire time. This time I started deep breathing exercises, and intentionally relaxing into my feelings. I didn’t have to feel, but if I did it was ok. I forced nothing. I was just an observer.

I’m not sure how long this went on, but it was well over an hour. The slide show would come and go sometimes. I kept my eyes closed, breathed, and paid attention, staying focused on being observant.

Then it happened again, the slide show stopped. It had nothing to do that I can tell with the memory I got all of a sudden.

The memory was that my grandmother had once told me a story when I first became a cop. This was more than 8 years after the teenage incidents, and I had not connected this story with anything else that had happened in my life. It was just a memory of my grandmother telling me she was worried about me being a cop, but that she believed I had a guardian angel because there were several times in my life it had saved me. She told me of 3 times. One I knew already, and it had to do with a head injury when I was 3 or 4. The second I also knew, it was a car accident and I was in the car.

The third I didn’t know. In her words from her memory….
When I was born I was circumcised. The first night out of the hospital my mom and I stayed with her at her house, not at my mom and dad’s home. My grandmother woke up in the middle of the night feeling something was wrong. She got up and checked on me. I was in the 2nd bedroom in a crib. When she turned on the light, she saw lots of blood on the bedding. She uncovered me and found that the “stitches” I received from the circumcision had come loose, and that I had been bleeding really bad. I was covered in my own blood. She wrapped the wound and took me to the hospital. The doc told her I had almost bled to death.

Back to 46 yrls old. This would explain some things if it were true, but like with most things these things can create as many or more questions than they seem to answer. Some of this made no sense. I called my dad within minutes and asked him where I went after I was released with mom to come home after birth. He said, home…to him and mom. I asked about any circumcision problems. He says no.

If mom was there with me at grandma’s, why no mention of her and her reactions/actions? Stitches in a circumcision? Almost bleeding to death?

I know I was circumcised. That I don’t remember is no great shock. So I went to the hospital grandma would have taken me too, and the hospital where I was born. No records, all destroyed years ago. Grandma and mom were long since dead. So I went to a couple older women who were my grandmothers neighbors, and her friends. Both remembered something had happened in the middle of the night at grandma’s house, and that an ambulance took me to the hospital. They didn’t recall what exactly they’d been told, just that it was me. And it was “not long” after I was born, but didn’t think I was there the first night out of the hospital.

I’ve spoken to several pediatricians since. I learned it is possible that a circumcision might require a stitch. One, probably not two. Not usually was this needed, but it can happen. I learned that some babies respond to the stitch by pulling or scratching at it. Occasionally this might pull the stitch loose, and cause bleeding. But not to the extent it would be life threatening.

Maybe this is how grandma perceived and remembered it, as opposed to what it really was.

Conclusions. All things considered, I’ve learned from many things that memory is not always reality, neither are perceptions. The mind records input from the senses, and stores it. Over time as other input is received, some memories can become distorted, some entwined with other memories not related to it. When a memory is triggered, it plays back what it has, which is not always entirely accurate.

That playback is not visual. The memories I trust the least are visual. The playback is from the recording of all the senses. I get memories of smell by themselves, ditto sounds, ditto touch, ditto taste, etc. Sometimes they playback 2 or 3 senses together at the same time. Sometimes when 1 gets played repeatedly, another may join it.

What really happened? I know I had the visions of blood and eventually the smell, then feeling. Those were played back not as a “memory”, but as if they were happening to me right that moment they were played back. I thought they were REAL. I had to check myself physically as I was going to give myself medical attention, or change my underwear.

I know what I did to myself in my teens. That is extremely clear. I also know that early childhood trauma sometimes gets acted out later in life. I’ll buy that, what I did to myself was absolutely strange. The obsession that came with it fits. What I did by shaving myself, painting myself red, then the glass rod…..I don’t have to know, it seems kind of obvious to me.

I know something probably happened when I was very very young that MAY have caused these things later in life. Exactly what happened and why, I’ll never know. But I don’t need to know the specifics. Generally I think it pretty much speaks for itself.

And I’m ok with that. This was all extremely interesting to me, and I still take great care not to make it into something it’s not. I’ve spoken of it to no one. I guess the best word would be: understanding.

From “Bill” somewhere in the U.S.

Amy - Teen's Health Expert

By Amy - Teen's Health Expert

Discover the dedicated author behind Teen Health Secrets, an experienced expert committed to providing in-depth knowledge and guidance on various aspects of teen health, ensuring young individuals lead healthy, informed lives.