My Story: Light at the end of the tunnel

I had a pretty decent childhood, despite being over weight and bullied at school, but then at the age of 9 my mom left and moved to Ireland. I had 2 younger brothers, but I couldn't just do nothing and sit n' cry like the rest of them, so I had to look after my brother whilst my dad spent days locked away in his study and evenings crying on the kitchen floor. If I wanted to cry it would be at night so I could cry myself to sleep, which made getting to sleep take a lot longer. I still had school as usual, but it was getting hard being there with lots of friendship issues and bullying going on. Especially when I moved up to secondary school, where it got worse, and I started hating myself and putting myself down because of it. I went as far as bunking off school because I was scared of them.

Eventually my dad found someone and it wasn't long until we moved in with her in 2011. All of the sudden I'm faced with a new school, in a new area where I didn't know anyone and I had 3 new members to my 'family'. When I moved in, I hated it. I hated not being at home and I hated feeling unwanted. I still cried myself to sleep but it took longer than normal. I started the new school and it seemed okay, the people seemed nice and they showed me were to go but it didn't take long before someone started bullying me again. I was the new girl so i was vulnerable when it came to bullying. They took the piss out of my size and the scars on my face from where dermatillomania had gotten to me (Obsessive compulsion to pick and scratch at skin). It brought me down so much so I wouldn't talk to anyone and I wouldn't make eye contact with anyone either. Thoughts of self hatred and loathing constantly ran through my mind throughout the day.

Life at home wasn't exactly simple either; bringing two broken families together has its problems but we were all constantly arguing with each other over everything and it was so stressful. I think my dad noticed I was crying myself to sleep and that I wasn't sleeping very well because he kept asking me what was wrong so I told him it was about my mom (which it was) then it got to a stage where he booked for me to go see the psychiatrist. She helped a little bit but it didn't change anything, my parents were still divorced, I was still being bullied, I still hated myself, but then I wanted to inflict pain on myself.

Towards April 2012 sort time I'd made friends with a girl and she wanted me to go out for dinner with her and her mate for her birthday. After we went back to hers and I met her cousin. Soon enough her cousin and I got talking and I really liked him. We started dating. I'd told him what happened with my mom and how I felt about myself but didn't mention the fact I wanted to hurt myself. He was really sweet and understanding and we loved each other, or at least that's what I thought because obviously there was something he didn't like, so I got an out of the blue text saying it was over. I didn't know what to do it felt like my mom had walked out all over again. I blame it on myself and didn't know what to think. Then I started cutting into my wrist. It hurt. I bled. but I'd stopped crying. The pain made me feel better, but the next day I saw the cuts and thought I'd done something so bad and thought I couldn't tell anyone so I didn't.

Through the years things got better then worse then got good again, but when they were worse I felt I couldn't contain myself and used cutting as a release mechanism as if to release stress because it felt good.

November 2013 I was cutting every other week, it had become and obsession, or addiction. My arm was constantly bound up and I always wore hoodies. By this time I'd met a guy who I fell for as soon as I met him and he was the best thing that ever happened to me. We skyped late every night and he knew I cut. He said I shouldn't do it because I was beautiful. I didn't believe him but it made me do it less. December 1st I told him how much I loved him even though I understood our relationship would be hard because of the distance. He said he loved me too then asked me out. I'd never been so happy in my life!

December 19th (4 days before my b-day) I get a text saying he's sorry but he'd been cheating on me and that it was over. I started cutting again but more and every day. I also started taking cocodamol (as if to kill the pain). As it got closer to Christmas, I was drinking heavily, cutting A LOT and everyday, and taking almost 7 times the amount of cocodamol you're supposed to have in 24 hours. 27th December I was rushed to hospital because of the cocodamol. I don't remember much of what happened but it hurt and I was really really sick. My mom said that if I hadn't have been taken to the hospital i wouldn't have survived. I was upset that it didn't work but believed it meant it wasn't my time just yet.

The cutting continued every morning and evening, sometimes during the day if i needed throughout January. Then my dad found out that I'd been doing it and thought I should go see my psychiatrist again. I didn't want to and I told him that I'd stopped but he didn't believe me. After seeing her I still did it. Then another guy came into my life. He made me so happy. We got together February 2014 and he made me feel so much better about everything. I'd told him about the cutting before we got together and he'd said that I didn't need to do it because he was there for me and that he'd look after me. So I'd gone back to doing it every so often. I was clean for 20 days until my nana passed away. She was my mom's mom, so I didn't see her much and I really regretted not seeing her enough before she passed. It broke my heart that she'd gone, and I'd cut. Then I saw him and I told him and he just held me. Didn't say anything just held me close.

After that I'd been clean all the way up until May where my supposedly best mate met up and forced herself onto my boyfriend. I was so angry at myself for not being better. It didn't split us up, but it definitely stopped me n' her being friends. I was hurt and upset because she betrayed me and it made me want to hurt her more than anything but I knew I'd never have the guts to do anything like that so I hurt myself and it felt good. Again he didn't get mad. He got upset with himself for not being there when I thought about doing it but he told me everything would be okay in the end and if it's not okay, it's not the end.

Since may I've struggled with the ever tempting thought of harming myself and the pressure of not having a 'release mechanism' driving me crazy but i talk to people about it. Even though my family is still argumentative and dysfunctional, I'm still being bullied for being fat and my mother still lived in another country, I have him and he's helping me recover.

There's
         always
                    a light at
                             the end of
                                       the tunnel.