LOVE IS THE SLOWEST FORM OF SUICIDE.
I ask of you to empathize, not sympathize.
I cannot adequately describe in words my emotional state prior to cutting. The feelings are overwhelming - usually severe feelings of sadness or anger. For me, cutting is a coping mechanism. It's definitely not something I'm proud of, but cutting presents a way to make the pain show and be felt on the "outside" where I can deal with it. It also provides me a temporary diversion from what I am feeling on the inside that's impossible to conceive.
And the best thing about it is, it stops me from crying.
It's a very stressful experience at the time but it does help me get back in control of my emotions albeit with having to face the shame the next day.
While I cut myself, I have a cognitive sense that what I am doing is wrong and sick, that my actions will hurt not only myself, but others who care; yet, I am so distraught, I don't care. I feel like a pressure cooker that's going to explode. The urge to cut is very strong and with each slash, I feel a sense of relief. I feel no pain during the cutting, the pain comes much later. Going back to the 'pressure cooker' analogy, cutting and bleeding is like letting out the steam.
Much as I hate the scars cutting leaves behind, the immediate relief I get from cutting is addictive; it makes me feel as if I'm injected with morphine or something. It relieves the pain that nothing else can take away and provides a weird sort of comfort and so, like a drug I can't live without, I keep falling into the same pattern over and over again.
Inflicting pain on myself disgusts me but it's like an obsession I can't get rid off and believe me, I really, really want to stop.
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