My years as cutter, and my journey through

by Cheryl Nuzum
(Georgia)

When I was in fifth grade I cut for the first time, and only that one time. But once I started sixth grade, I began doing it more regularly. I went through my phases. Sometimes I could go months without even doing it, but then I'd pick up the scissors one day and for weeks I'd do it every day, several times. For three years this went on, and then finally in eighth grade, everything got better. New school, new friends, new life. I surrounded myself in the Christian world, through friends and church and Bible studies. I got Saved and received a devotional which I read everyday. I fell in love and got in with a new set of friends, and for once, I finally found where I wanted to be and I stayed there.

Somewhere along the way however, I lost my way. My boyfriend and first love broke up with me, and suddenly I realized how big the mistakes were that had made with him. My friends had begun outcasting me the more I hung out with him, and I lost my best friend in the world over jealousy.

I thought I was a failure, as a girlfriend, as a best friend, and ultimately, as a Christian. I began cutting all over again, and this time it only got worse. I wanted to die, that I knew, but I also knew I was too afraid to actually do it.
Finally, a friend got me to tell my dad. He said it was nothing. He said it was just a stupid cry for attention, and even teased me about it. "Is it because mommy's gone? Are you sad because mommy left and you want her back? Do you just want attention?" Those were his words to me. I felt horrible, and even a failure as a daughter. I gave up my hope in my father, and in myself and my recovery. And ultimately, I gave up hope in God.

One day, the ex boyfriend came back and when realizing I was cutting, he went off on me. He told me I was pathetic. He said I was stupid for cutting. Said I was some lonely slut who always wanted everyone else to fix her instead of doing it herself. He told me if I wanted to die, I would've done it already, and all I was craving was attention from people who didn't care. He said I was never going to change.

For awhile, I believed him. And when I went home, I picked up a razor and went straight to the bathroom. But then, I decided not to. I didn't want to. I didn't want him to be right. I could change, I could prove him wrong. I wanted to. I needed too.

See, I didn't want to let anything control me. My sadness, my hurt, my depression, my bipolar (which I was later diagnosed with.) The only thing I wanted to control me was God, and I knew I could trust him with my life. But I refused to let anyone or anything control me. Especially the cutting and the temptation.

It was will power. It's hard to find, and even sometimes it's difficult to summon when I most need it. But I found it. I put my faith in the Lord, and immersed myself within him. And eventually, I took all my sadness and turned it into anger, which I let out through music or boxing or something physical I could produce. It saved me. And I saved myself.