My mother was 16 and my father was 25. They were married, but still very immature.
I lived with only them in a house. They constantly fought and did not wish to deal with me. So, more often than not I was at my grandparents' home.
One day my father, John, was at work. My mother and I were home alone. I was 22 months old. She was obviously not watching me carefully because I climbed on a chair and took many different kinds of my father's medication. Because I was so little, I overdosed and lapsed into very many seizures. I spent a week in the hospital.
After a while longer of my parents' constant fighting my mother, Aggie, finally left me. She didn't show up for the custody hearing, either. John was given custody of me, but because of his disability, I was sent to live with my grandparents.
After a year or so, my mother started to see me again. I don't remember our time together.
When I was four or five she got re-married to my step-father, Gary. He had a daughter almost two years older than me, Karen. A year or less later my little sister, Holly, was born. I didn't see her until after my youngest sister, Dakota, was born a year later.
I visited my mother many times over the years. Aggie was more of a friend than a mother, though. I also established relationships with my sisters and step-father.
I began ice-skating at the age of 10. At first I did it for fun. I was always asking Aggie to watch me skate. She never did. I reasoned with myself that if I began competitions she would come to watch them. I was in three over a year's time. I received a gold medal in all of them, yet she never came. I continued skating for many years, but losing the interest as time went on.
First Cut
When I was eleven I got into an argument with my father. He called me several names. Now, I'm not going to say that this argument alone led to my blood-letting, but I will say that it definitely pushed me further to it.
Growing up I knew I was different. I cried on more occasion than one about not having both parents constantly in my life (I saw my father almost everyday, but not for extended periods).
I ran to my room crying after my father had said all of those things to me. When I got there I hit my leg against the corner of my desk while slamming the door. It made me stop crying and calmed me down a bit. But as minutes passed my thoughts strayed back to what my father had said.
Let me take a time out from actions for a moment. I want to point out that all behaviors are learned. There are positive things that we could learn (walking, eating, speaking, etc.). Then there are the negatives (cutting, burning, making ourselves vomit, etc.). Also let me point out that the time learning these behaviors differs. I learned this behavior rather quickly--not all cutters do.
Back to the action...
I let a few tears slip as the pain returned. I remembered how the accidental injury made me feel. It made the emotion pain stop. I looked around my room and saw a bobby-pin. When I picked it up I hesitated a bit before bringing it down on my upper-thigh. I watched as the skin pulled apart and a little bit of blood began coming out of my parted skin. The blood was enough to calm me down. I stopped crying and stopped focusing on what John had said to me. Instead I thought about the dulled pain in my leg.
I didn't cut again for a week.
N.V. (Envy)
N.V. (Envy)
