One day after my 18th birthday, I started self-harming. It started small, using pens or needles to slash my wrists. It hurt, and I wanted to stop, but I also felt… nothing. I did it the first time to stop crying when my father was hitting and hurling insults at me, and I didn’t want him to see me crying to prevent more beatings.

 

It started to get worse, of course. I used the kitchen knives in my house, and I would cut almost every now and then. I wore jackets to school so no one could tell, but at times I did take my jacket off so everyone could see. 
I didn’t really care at that point. I didn’t have friends, and I was quite used to being judged anyways.

 


It got better for me for a moment, until I had a fight with a friend and I tried to end my own life – overdosing on paracetamol but too scared to stab myself with the knife I had in hand. 

 


That was all one year ago. I still have those memories playing in my head like it was yesterday. 
I’ve gotten better at my own recovery. My self-harming has decreased and I am finding the support I need. And even though I still don’t have as many friends, I know there are people I can rely on.

 

For anyone suffering through their struggles, I just wish to say that I am proud of you. No one has to go through that struggle, and I know each and everyone of us going through this is strong and capable in their own way.
 I say, keep fighting. Keep fighting through every hardship and setback you face. I wish someone told me that when I first started, but now I only want to help anyone struggling through that too. 
No one has to go through it alone. 

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