The truth

He touched the scar on my upper left arm. Asked for a story. I said no and went about my day.

Now I think it's time I share it with you.

I'm a cutter. Well, was a cutter. The last time I cut myself was June 24, 2007. My 24th birthday.

It was a high I couldn't get enough of. I craved it. I carried the razor blade with me everywhere. I was so blinded by it that I didn't realize I was very close to loosing everyone and everything I loved.

They found out by accident. My sister and I were horsing around as my mom was trying to take our picture. She turned my wrist over and that's when they saw it. My started crying, called the doctor, had to make sure I was in no danger of harming myself or others. She let me go to work. I remember her calling me on the way there, telling me I had to get help or she was going to have me committed (she had the right to do that as I was still under their insurance). I freaked out, pulled into a bank parking lot and cried my eyes out. I eventually made it to work, cried some more. It was off to the doctor for me. I was put on meds and went to a therapist. That lasted for about four months. Then the insurance ran out. Fun times, fun times. No more meds, no more therapy.

I struggle on a daily basis to keep myself in check. I talk about it a lot more now. My friends and family know that I need them. I cannot do this alone. I'm thankful they are there. If you, or anyone you know, is suffering from depression and/or thinking about suicide as an out, seek help IMMEDIATELY!!

That's my story.