This is my story. I'm still recovering, but it feels like explaining how I got into recovery mode for myself might help someone else get out of self harm mode into their own recovery stage. This may be a trigger, but I really feel it needs to be said.
The first time I cut, was the day I came-out to my parents. Mind you, coming out was unintentional. They found out I had looked at some gay pornography. We had a several hour (not exaggerating) discussion of how awful it is to be gay. Afterwards, my father took me downstairs and beat me for it.
I wanted to punish myself. Obviously I was evil and horrendous. Parents don't lie, and their word was unquestionable to me at 15. <Staff edit>
I felt better and worse at the same time. My friend and my very worst foe.
I started getting saved every week at church. And everytime I thought about another guy in any sexual way, I cut myself. When I had a thought that maybe being gay was okay, I cut myself. When I felt I needed to be punished, I cut myself. When I needed emotional release, I cut myself. Soon it became addiction.
<Staff edit>
I tried to cut it out, because that's what God would've wanted. He didn't want to see me perverted, he wanted me to be heterosexual like everyone else. The ends justified the means.
Cutting makes your brain act funny. I was trying to cut a part of me away, instead of looking at why. You don't think when you cut. Your reactive instead of pro-active. Cutting is a reaction. I was just reacting to my family and my beliefs on God, instead of actually dealing with it.
I changed. I empowered myself, and broadened my view of who God was. It took a long time, but I learned I am who I am.
Therefore I am Love. If that means I am gay, whatever. I'm not evil. I'm not horrendous. I have no need to punish myself. I have no need to release emotion with blood. I can deal with everything, instead of reacting to it.
I still have thoughts about it. The release of pent-up emotion it provided, the friend, foe and nurturer it provided, and the endorphins it released. It's not worth it to me. I have a journal cut into my arms. Private thoughts, for everyone to see. No one needs to see more. I can handle things, I love myself, and everyone else.
There is no need for me to cut, it served its purpose, and now I can move on. I hope you are able to move on too, but if you are not ready that's okay. Cutting or other forms of self-mutilation are not healthy, but comfortable. There are other healthier ways to deal, but I do not judge. I just hope my story can help set you on a path to a healthier life.
The first time I cut, was the day I came-out to my parents. Mind you, coming out was unintentional. They found out I had looked at some gay pornography. We had a several hour (not exaggerating) discussion of how awful it is to be gay. Afterwards, my father took me downstairs and beat me for it.
I wanted to punish myself. Obviously I was evil and horrendous. Parents don't lie, and their word was unquestionable to me at 15. <Staff edit>
I felt better and worse at the same time. My friend and my very worst foe.
I started getting saved every week at church. And everytime I thought about another guy in any sexual way, I cut myself. When I had a thought that maybe being gay was okay, I cut myself. When I felt I needed to be punished, I cut myself. When I needed emotional release, I cut myself. Soon it became addiction.
<Staff edit>
I tried to cut it out, because that's what God would've wanted. He didn't want to see me perverted, he wanted me to be heterosexual like everyone else. The ends justified the means.
Cutting makes your brain act funny. I was trying to cut a part of me away, instead of looking at why. You don't think when you cut. Your reactive instead of pro-active. Cutting is a reaction. I was just reacting to my family and my beliefs on God, instead of actually dealing with it.
I changed. I empowered myself, and broadened my view of who God was. It took a long time, but I learned I am who I am.
Therefore I am Love. If that means I am gay, whatever. I'm not evil. I'm not horrendous. I have no need to punish myself. I have no need to release emotion with blood. I can deal with everything, instead of reacting to it.
I still have thoughts about it. The release of pent-up emotion it provided, the friend, foe and nurturer it provided, and the endorphins it released. It's not worth it to me. I have a journal cut into my arms. Private thoughts, for everyone to see. No one needs to see more. I can handle things, I love myself, and everyone else.
There is no need for me to cut, it served its purpose, and now I can move on. I hope you are able to move on too, but if you are not ready that's okay. Cutting or other forms of self-mutilation are not healthy, but comfortable. There are other healthier ways to deal, but I do not judge. I just hope my story can help set you on a path to a healthier life.
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