I am an 18 year old college freshmen that everyone thinks has it all together. People are constantly telling me that I am "on a very good path," that I "know what I want and where I'm going," everyone says that they're proud of me, that I am making really good choices and know where I'm headed, my professors have told people I'm a real "go-get-'em" person. Once, a professor even told me "students like you are the reason I keep teaching.
I feel so guilty when people tell me these things.
Because they don't know the truth, they don't know what goes on behind closed doors. No one does.
When I was fifteen a lifetime of abuse and anguish finally caved in on me and I sunk into the world of self-inflicted injury. I was doing every day and it was accompanied by non-stop thoughts of suicide. I eventually admitted my issue to a teacher and started seeing a therapist. To be totally frank, me and my therapist never really clicked, I know it's not about making friendships or anything. But the truth I just didn't really get along with her. I started to resent her after a while.
Regardless, I was able to get relief from my suicidal thoughts and my self mutilation stopped. I stopped seeing the therapist and everyone thought I was fixed. I told everyone my cutting had stopped entirely.
I was lying.
Over the next few years there were several instances where stresses and intense feelings would build up and I would snap and pull the knife on myself again. But it was only sporadic, and I wasn't thinking about killing myself anymore. So I thought little of it.
But I am here at college now, an eight hour plane ride from my family and the community I grew up in. And I have lapsed back into this habit. I cut myself every evening, sometimes in the morning, sometimes both. I don't even bother putting my razor away anymore, I have it out and at the ready so I can grab it whenever a bad memory comes back to me or I come back from an embarassing experience I wasn't anticipating it. I have to lie to people, when people see my cuts, I make up all kinds of stories to explain them. There was even one time I had to wrap a cotton bandage on my arm because it wouldn't stop bleeding and I told people it was an accident during an art project.
That is one of the reasons I am afraid to admit this to anyone.
I am afraid of people who thought they knew me feeling like I decieved them and thinking they can't trust me. Because I don't talk to anyone about this. I don't like to talk about my problems with people because I am afraid of pushing them away. I don't want to create that akwardness. I feel like "people have enough of their own problems and their own lives, why do they need to deal with me and mine."
It's ironic. People tell me that I am a good person to talk to, that I am trustworthy and easy to open up to. But that is exactly what I am having such a hard time doing and being for others.
I know if I caved in completly, if I gave into these sudden urges I am feeling, people would be totally shocked.
Because I do have these urgings, I will be having a "session," and the suddenly the strong, almost overwhelming desire to slice my wrist and let myself bleed until I can't bleed anymore will come over me. I will literally grip my hair, put my head between my knees, and force myself to take deep breaths until the feeling passes.
Not long ago I had an episode where I totally lost control and made more cuts at once than ever before. The whole left side of my body was like something out of a horror film. I went to a school counselor and admitted this to her. She is so far the only one that know about any of the self injury I have inflicted since I stopped counseling three years earlier. I want to go back to her and talk to her more about it. But I am too ashamed.
Why? Because I had to sit down and confront the fact that maybe, just maybe, I really don't want to stop.
When I am in the throws of a craving, it is as if my mind splits into two. One half says..
"This is disgusting, this isn't normal, it's counter-productive, not to mention painful, there has to be a better way,"
And the other half, the stronger half, says..
"Hey, it's quick, it's easy, it make you feel better, no one has to know, it's not effecting your health like drugs or bulimia or something, and it's not effecting your ability to function in society, so why not?"
I really don't know what to do. I have no one I can talk to. The thing that scares me is I am getting to the point where I can't picture myself without this, it has become such a part of me. And I know that perception will only get stronger with time.
It really is like this demon sitting in the corner waiting to catch me in a weak moment and spring on me when my guard is down.
Any advice or words of support would be appreciated.
