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One of the most exciting things I can buy while I am out shopping is a new package of
single-edged razor blades, preferably Gem or Treat. I relish the irony of these brand
names. In a pinch, though, a box cutter or X-acto knife or even a regular kitchen knife
will do, as long as it's sharp. This is where the ritual begins. Where it ends is, well,
usually the emergency room or at least a load of bloody laundry.
I am a frequent self-injurer, and have been for many of my 24 years. Self-injury is a
general term used to define any of a number of behaviors involving intentional injury
to one's body, be it cutting, burning, scratching, the severing of limbs or digits, etc.
The definition can be wide or narrow, but it all boils down to one thing: intentionally
harming the body in search of emotional release or distraction. It is a wide-spread
problem, particularly among young women, and yet it is still relatively unknown to the
general public. It is for this reason that I choose to tell my story of self-injury and
the beginning of my recovery from it.
As is the case with many, if not most, self-injurers, I was sexually and physically abused
as a child and an adolescent. In my case, it was particularly violent and approached
ritualistic abuse, and took place at regular intervals from early childhood until my
teenage years. It is virtually impossible to survive such abuse without numerous coping
methods; as with many victims of childhood abuse, I have blocked out some of the memories
of what happened to me, and I often dissociate to escape what I do remember. But as I
discovered, self-injury is one of the most effective methods of releasing emotions too
intense to keep inside.
My first episode of self-injury, as far as I can remember, occurred when I was about 8 or
9 years old. I was nearly hysterical after being assaulted by my grandfather, and I kicked
the wall in desperation and frustration. I was surprised to find the pain soothing rather
than more upsetting, and I tried it again. Harder this time, and more soothing. I made no
attempt, in my child's mind, to understand why this might be the case; I only cared that
it made an unbearable situation somewhat more bearable. As I got older, I tried new
pain-inducing activities: falling down the stairs, crashing into walls and furniture,
scratching my skin with paper clips or staples, etc. All of these were successful at first,
but it wasn't very long before they lost their effectiveness. So I moved on to hitting my
fingers and toes with a hammer, repeatedly banging my head on the wall and scattering
thumbtacks in my bed before rolling around in it. Again, though, I felt better after doing
such things for only a limited period of time, at most a few months.
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