G

I started consciously self-harming when I was 13.

I’d had a really rough ride growing up. I couldn’t trust anyone, and I was having a tough time at school. I was being bullied. I was struggling with my sexuality. I was starting to question who I was (I’m adopted) and my Dad had been diagnosed as bi-polar so I couldn’t call home my safe place any more.

I didn’t know how to talk about how I was feeling. I think realising I was gay was the thing that finally made me snap, and I honestly felt like I couldn’t reach out to anyone. I didn’t think anyone would understand and I didn’t think anyone would care. I didn’t have many friends and I wasn’t close to my parents, so I felt totally alone.

I hadn’t had any exposure to self-harm. No-one I knew was doing it, I hadn’t read about it on the internet and I hadn’t even seen it in the media. It just felt like the best way to cope with how I was feeling. I understood physical pain, and I didn’t understand emotional pain. I only have vague memories about the first time I hurt myself. I have more vivid memories of plenty of other occasions, but I think I’ve blanked out that first time. I was alone, at home and it just felt like the right thing to do. I remember feeling scared and ashamed about it, then worrying about how to hide it, and those feelings never really went away for the 7/8 years I struggled for. I say that as if it’s gone away now that I’m older, but it hasn’t – it’s always going to be there, and there are still times now that it beats me. That’s why I don’t like the word “recovered” – I’d rather tell people I’m “in recovery”.

What made me decide to stop self-harming? This is a hard one to answer. There were two things that stopped me self-harming. One is much more positive than the other, but both had the same effect. I was at University and had been in an emotionally and physically abusive relationship for the best part of a year. I got to a point where I didn’t want to be hurt anymore – by myself, or by anyone else – so that gave me some motivation. The second thing was the support of other people. I couldn’t hide anymore, I had to face up to my feelings and eventually I think I just learnt healthier ways to cope. I didn’t want to disappoint other people, and I didn’t want to disappoint myself. Eventually, self-harm became a “thing I used to do” rather than a “thing I thought about 24/7”. I vividly remember the last time I self-harmed (before a relapse 7 years later) but it wasn’t ceremonial, it wasn’t a “this is the very last time I’m going to do this” type moment. I just woke up one day, self-harmed, and afterwards I thought “I don’t need to do this anymore. Other people have got my back. I can fight this now.” Don’t get me wrong, I still wanted to, but that compulsive need wasn’t there anymore. Other people believed in me, believed I could stop, and helped me along the way. I got rid of everything I’d ever used to hurt myself and I told myself that I wouldn’t ever go back.

Was there a particular positive coping mechanism that worked for me? Well, I did a lot of ‘research’ on self-harm. I joined an online forum, I mediated an online forum, I had some therapy and I sought help and support from other people in my situation. I googled self-harm and tried and tested everything everyone else suggested. Every coping mechanism I could read about, I tried. Holding ice, snapping a rubber band, drawing on my arms, writing, listening to music, exercise, hitting or screaming into pillows, cold baths/showers, all of them. Some of them worked some of the time, some of them didn’t work at all. Some were more practical than others.

But what helped most, was talking.

It was the hardest thing I did, and still something that I have to psych myself up to do today, but it made me accountable to other people and it gave me a reason to fight. As soon as other people knew, I had nowhere to hide. I couldn’t put on a brave face and tell people I was “fine”. I had to talk about how I was feeling. So in short – the best coping mechanism for me was reaching out to other people. I couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel without other people pointing it out to me. I didn’t tell anyone for over 2 years, and those couple of years were when I was at my very worst. I told my (then) best friend after 4 years. The second I opened up about it, it felt real, it felt manageable, and it felt conquerable. Telling that friend all those years ago was, in equal measure, the hardest and most rewarding thing I’ve ever done. Looking back, other people knowing and supporting – but fundamentally still loving me despite my self-harm – was what got me through. For the first time, I felt strong enough to fight it, and I didn’t feel ashamed anymore. Fighting alone was impossible, but fighting with an army of support who could pick me up when I fell over was so important. Talking about self-harm to people that had no idea or experience of it was hard, really hard, but I probably wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t.

So where am I now? I recently relapsed – one of my best friends committed suicide and it broke me. But I’m older now, so I have experience behind me. I followed my best advice – I opened up and told a friend what was going on. I’m proud of myself for speaking up. It took me a while to send a very cryptic “I’m not okay” message. But it was enough. I also got a tattoo to cover up some of my scars and that gives me a permanent reminder that I’m strong enough to fight. I also wrote myself a letter after my last relapse that I keep with me, and I read it every now and then (normally after some encouragement from said friend) so that I can see how far I’ve come.

Today will be 40 days since I last gave in to self-harm.

So if you’re struggling, tell someone. Anyone. Don’t fight by yourself. It doesn’t go away overnight, and for me, self-harm will always be a massive part of my story. I’ve got 7 years’ worth of scars that tell my story, and I don’t want any more of them. Write it down, call someone, text someone. Don’t be scared. It gets easier. Every day I fought it, it got easier, 1 hour became a day, and one day would eventually add up to a week, a week became a month and a month eventually became a year. Don’t give up if you relapse. Stand up, brush yourself off, and start over. Be kind to yourself. Give yourself a break. Believe you are worth it; believe you are loved; believe that you can fight; believe you deserve to be happy. I still have to tell myself those things over and over and over, but it sinks in eventually, and you can beat it.

– G