My name is ****** and this is my story of self-harming. I can’t say that I am actually addicted to it, but it does help a little to my miserable excuse of a life. I am 12 years old, a seventh grader at a nice school. I am extremely preppy, have tons of friends, and a favorite to many of my teachers. Not to brag, but I am considered to be really smart to my peers, so that shows how anyone could be a self-harmer.
As a pre-schooler/ kindergartener, my father forced me to learn how to read. It sounds ridiculous, but it’s true and did scar me. He would yell at me if I read a word wrong and I would cry endlessly. In the years after, my father used to hit me. My parents also ignored me a lot and did not listen to what I had to say. I felt alone, lost, and uncared for. I probably had a small case of depression. My father also physically abused me a few times. I sometimes injured myself. In the past, I have yelled at my little sister, hitting her and insulting her by calling her names. I feel bad about it, and she is bitter and does not trust me.
Fast-forward to sixth grade. There was less abuse, but still some. That was my first experience with the way I injure now. It was while my mother was away on a trip and my father was alone, to care for me and my sister. He was trying to prepare me for a competition and he got angry at me and abused me a lot, yelling at me and threatening me with more. I must have cried for up to 2 hours, moaning and crying out so loud after, it probably scared him so that he didn’t come down for the rest of the night. Eventually I decided to take a risk, and injured.  There was one time my mother was talking about how useless I was because of something I did wrong. I injured while she was yelling at me. I was desperate. My little sister was watching me when I injured myself and she actually said, “******’s (injuring) herself!” and my mother said that she didn’t care as long as I didn’t do anything with her furniture. I was angry at what she said.
I didn’t do it again until seventh grade. I don’t remember why. Partially it was probably because my sister was telling me she hated me and wished I was dead. My father has told me I was stupid multiple times, told me that I will never succeed in life. My mother told me no one would be dumb enough to ever love me. I’m actually crying after typing those two sentences. The effect is tremendous on me and they don’t realize it at all.
About a week ago, I went to the dentist and they had my blood pressure checked (I have no idea why they would do that at the dentist’s, ha-ha) and I think the lady saw my scars but she never said anything. I guess that was when I realized that it was a bad thing to injure; that I was ashamed of it. I love jackets, so I guess hiding scars is easy enough for me, but I never really thought much of it.
The only person I ever told is 13 year-old boy, who lives in Texas. He was my friend’s boyfriend at the time. They broke up. So I admitted my terrible life and injuring to tell him it isn’t worth it. They got back together soon after. We’ve never spoke of it since, but remained friends.
I am terrified of it getting worse. I tell myself that I am fat, ugly, dumb, stupid, cowardly, and unloved; I could list more. I actually keep a list of 40+ of them in my diary. Overall, I have felt unneeded and unappreciated. I feel like I am undeserving of life, and that no one would notice if I died. I also think that everyone secretly hates me and uses me. I feel like I am undeserving of life.
I have never been in a relationship; never had a boyfriend. I need and want that sort of comfort, but I’m afraid of either scaring him away or being pushed away. I have been in love with this one guy since 5th grade and I feel like he ignores me and doesn’t like me. We haven’t had a direct conversation in over 2 years. The thing that hurts the most is that we were best friends for a year and I miss talking to him. I am convinced he hates me and that contributes to my stress and hatred at myself.
I have unofficially diagnosed myself with Borderline Personality Disorder, with self-harm, minor depression, and low self-esteem of myself being my main reasons.
Uhg. I am disgusted with myself. So. Much.
People think I’m perfect. I’m not. I will never be. </3