I used to be a cutter. No I am not ashamed.

The words almost every child abuse victim hears.

The words almost every child abuse victim hears.


I used to be a cutter. Not so long ago really. I felt so horrible inside and felt that my life was spinning out of control. I felt as though every time I cut, I was somehow gaining control back but I never really did. I was left with scars reminding me of how sad I was but the memory of why I was so sad, never lasted and soon left. Every cut you cry out “Hear me!” “This is for you. Those who hurt me. Who told me I was nothing. Who called me names. Who said no one would love me.” What stopped me was my husband.

I cut for many years and no one ever knew. It was like some sort of release when I felt so overwhelmed with my life. I was a young wife, a young mom and unhealed abused child. I had a long way to go when I was younger.

I learned to cut when I was younger probably around 9 or so. I didn’t really cut at the beginning but rather scratched myself with nails I grew just for that purpose. In the beginning, digging my nails into my own skin felt good. I actually felt as though some of the inner pain I was feeling, left my body with each drop of blood and each layer of removed skin. I never really did it where people could see or if someone did I was always quick to blame an inanimate object like a nail poking out. No one paid any attention to the constant sores I had all over my body but then again no one cared about the atrocities which occurred by my so called father and then step father. I felt like no one cared and no one could hear me screaming for help. I felt alone. I felt out of control. I needed to get a sense of control and so the scratches went from just scratches to more defined cuts with a blade or piece of glass or even a pointy stick. I met my now husband at age 14 after being sent to summer camp when I had cut my wrists. Somehow social services thought the treatment for a youth who had attempted to kill herself was to be sent to a summer camp. I am definitely not complaining about that decision since I would not have met the most wonderful man I have ever known.

Even though we dated for three years before marriage, he never knew what was happening in my home and had no clue why I was always cut or scratched up. He never asked and I never spoke about until years later. The changing point in my life was a day when I had one of the worst ones ever and I was extremely depressed about a personal issue which had recently occurred. Although I had stopped cutting as frequently over the years, I did continue to do it when I got to a place where I felt lack of control in my life. It was during this extremely stressful day that I cut for the final time. I know it’s the final time because this time it not only affected me but it affected the one man who had ever loved me. He saw the bloody scissors and the blood coming through the pants I was wearing. He went into the bathroom, grabbed the scissors and started to cry. This man who is built similar to a pro wrestler and worries some, cried. He took the scissors and cut his own leg. He dropped the scissors and looked down to see blood on his leg too. He sat down, became pasty white and then had a seizure in front of me. I screamed for help and picked up the phone to call 911. He came to as I was talking to them and I swore then and there I would never hurt him that way again. He held me tight and we both cried like babies. I fell more in love with him then and there. All the pain I felt inside seemed to subside and suddenly I felt in control. I knew that I have a choice to harm myself or not. I knew that what I do has a far greater effect then maybe I ever knew until that day.

Do I always have good days? No. The difference is that I know I have someone who loves me even when I can’t love myself and that is pretty darn amazing. He loves me through everything and accepts me for who I am. He never tells me that I am a bad person because he knows I have already heard that enough times in my life. He builds me up when I feel tore down. I am thankful to have him in my life. I will never cut again. When I get stressed, I now talk to him and he will listen. I hope that everyone finds the same unconditional love I have.

You are not alone. Please don’t cut. Reach out. xxx

2 comments on “I used to be a cutter. No I am not ashamed.”

  1. P.L. Susana Reply

    You really have a wonderful husband.
    It is good that you finally got the chance of having such a happy life after all you went through in the past.

    Our world need more people like you. People who are strong enough to survive atrocities and fight in order to help and protect others. And people who are able to stay by the side of their loved ones and support them unconditionally with love, patience and care.

    Wish both of you and your children and grand-children as many future happy and good memories as possible.

    • BeWytched Reply

      Thank you for your kind words. I believe that the people who have their hearts broken are those who are the most caring and empathetic. Although heartache is not a necessary thing to understand another pain, it does help to understand it if you have been there too. I share my story in hopes that someone might read it and see that even though the tunnel seems very dark in our lives at times, there is a light if we just keep looking for it. Thank you very much again for such a nice comment.

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