Release in Cutting

I’m not advocating for cutting, self-harm, or suicide, but I am here to write about my experiences with cutting. I feel obligated as a person who doesn’t cut and a responsible adult to talk about how wrong it is, but there are parts of me that view it as right. Perhaps we can write it off as a kink, but this just feels like part of who I was growing up.

I learned about cutting back when I was already a gothic kid around 13. I enjoyed cutting and although when I first started I couldn’t have given it these descriptive words to describe my why, but the release of brain chemicals from cutting was a rush that I liked.

I heard cutting was a way to control your life even when you had no ways to control it and it helped me feel more in control. As a teenager if feels like life is constantly spinning out of control and if you can find some way to assert some order and dominance over it, well, you experiment with it.

I was dealing with a deep depression that came with being a teenager. at various points in time I was trying to kill myself. Looking back, I never think I was in a serious danger of killing myself from cutting. I wasn’t cutting deep enough or in the right places, thank goodness for small favors like that because I’m thrilled to be alive now. Life gets better after growing up some or even with just reassessing how you look at things.

It was a strange game when cutting: I was trying to press deeper, to cut farther in, but at the same time, it hurt and our brains are wired to not let us hurt…