Self-Injury

Tracy Ewert

I run the shaking finger over the blade, making sure it is sharp. Eyes twitch while looking for a "hide-and-seek" spot. The puffy belly is already full of lines, as it is my favorite. I have gym the next day, so the legs are not an option. The nausea fills the throat as all the veins pulsate like a cell waiting for a call.

I have to do it; I won't be able to think of anything else; just one quick slice. Sucking on my tongue seems to help, but making tracks for the inbound train of sleep will be better.

Pressing my paint scraper against the hip, I finally feel myself; I am letting go. Rush of sweat, heat, relief comes as the first blood blossom blooms.

It is my blood, my skin, my sweat, my veins, my hip, and my cut. I am real. The oversized t-shirt from Florida falls to hide the wound, as I go to sleep.

For the last 10 years of my life I was addicted to injuring myself. I have been clean for five months and counting. Coming out was the hardest thing I have ever had to do, but during my sophomore year of high school the secret I told no one became real when I was put on suicide watch at school. I admitted myself to Alexian Brothers Behavioral Health Hospital and for nearly three months, my life was committed to stopping my addiction.

I am very lucky. After my treatment, I returned to school and continued on with my now healthy life. However, for 4 percent of Americans my healthily life is but a dream.

That number might seem small, but think of it this way. Pick five people that you love. Got them? One of them self-injures.

Although cutting is the most common form of self-injury, it is not the only method. There are 13 different categories for self-injury: cutting, hitting, amputation, extreme nail biting, breaking of bones, not letting wounds heal, extreme hair pulling, burning, having a eating disorder, being chemically dependent, extreme lip biting, and scratching. Keep in mind, these are the known types of self-injury; there are endless other ways that someone can hurt themselves.

When I was admitted to the hospital I was put into the group called S.I.R.S (Self-Injury Recovery Support). Walking through that door I had a preconceived idea of my group mates. I pictured girls older then me, in their early twenties, with heavy black eye liner and fishnet stockings with big black boots. I assumed they would wear chains and none of them would talk. Of course, as it always seems to be with life altering experiences, I was wrong.

During my 3-month stay, I met men and women ranging from 12 to 68. Two of the older women had kids; one was a grandma and the other was the mother of a boy styling a pink Mohawk and a little girl who decided she wanted to become a nun.

I was surprised to find three jocks sat among us: a senior in high school who had a great sense of humor and always wore a slick ponytail and basketball shorts; a hardcore softball player who, I thought, would fit in with the popular group at my school; and a brainiac lacrosse player, wild and crazy with her remarks. She had given us all nicknames such as "teddy bear". There was also a deaf woman in her late forties, three guys (one a twelve year old child, another a skater, and one gay), and one beautiful girl I bonded with who was brilliant and made me laugh.

We bonded by telling stories, trying to stay awake through the lecture "What it Means to be a Survivor and A Victim," and meeting even more S.I's (self-injuries) who came from different programs like E.D (Eating Disorders) and C.D. (Chemical Dependency).

About three weeks into the program, the staff gravely informed us that Amanda*, a particularly nice girl who had always said hi to me and really made me feel welcome, had committed suicide.

The old saying "until it happens to you" came to my mind, for I had never experienced someone so close to me...I couldn't even think. Some curled up in their chairs and cried silently to themselves, others just sat there as the staff asked how we all felt and how this affected us.

Guilt was my effect, that's how I felt most of the time when I injured. I felt I needed to punish myself for whatever reason, in this case not being nice enough. The others also expressed feelings of wanting to self-injure. "She didn't deserve to die," some said. Others, "I'm angry at her for doing it."

Several different people self injure for several different reasons. It is a coping mechanism like going for a run or drawing. It's a way to release emotion, to get a euphoric high, to communicate to others, to self-nurture, to reenact previous abuse, or to establish control.

To self-injurers, it seems reasonable to hurt yourself when that's what you've done every time you've felt sad or upset. Some people don't understand what would posses someone to hurt themselves, but one has to remember that it is the only thing we know how to do; it is our only coping skill.

If you suspect someone of self-injuring the best thing you can do is to talk to them. Tell them that you are there and you want to help. Urge them to go talk to a doctor or their parents.

If you self-injure, I strongly urge you to talk with someone you trust. Try making a list of different things you could do when you feel the need to hurt yourself or keep a list of positive qualities about yourself around.

Remember that when you are hurting yourself you are also hurting the people that love you. Remember that no one deserves to be hurt and that there are other ways to get what you need. Remember that if I can get through treatment and come out clean, so can you.