Iím Cassie, 14 years old. I have a long story to tell
although Iím not that old. It involves a lot of Self-Injury.
When I was quite young, perhaps seven, my father was
diagnosed with Acute Lymphosetic Leukemia. Most of the time I was left with a
baby-sitter whom I grew very attached to and I grew up very fast. By the time I
was ten, I had experienced death and loss on several occasions. By twelve, Iíd
lost count. The baby-sitter I called Mom had left me, and I was lost without
her. I was absolutely devastated. Shortly after she ďdisappearedĒ, my pets were
dropping like flies.
They were the only friends I had because I never had a
chance to go anywhere and make real friends and in school, I was always alone. I
didnít want to let anyone in. There were a few pets I was especially fond of and
they all were taken away from me in one way or another. So now, I had one
She used me and abused me all while making me believe
somehow that I wasnít whole without her. During my relationship with her, I
discovered the art of self-injury. Thatís what it was to me, an art. I could use
my body as a canvas for free and embellish it in any way I wanted to. Straight
lines, circles, letters, Chinese symbols, even intricate pictures were carved
into my body. I adored it.
My scars were my best friends. Whenever I needed a crying
shoulder, they were there no matter what. Once people started getting what I was
doing, I was in the hospital. Short amounts of time several times. Sometimes I
enjoyed getting tricks and ideas from other kids there and I made many
Ďfriendsí. I was on all sorts of drugs and in all kinds of therapy, but I
didnít care. At least not, untill ďMom,Ē came back into my life. I donít know
why I held on like I did, but it wasnít worth it. She told me to stop cutting
and to stop doing drugs and I listened for a while. I soon discovered that she
was no where near sincere at all and she was just trying to humor me. Maybe she
thought I was still seven. She was around for a while and soon I noticed her
tapering attempts to keep me happy. I just replied to her emails and talked when
she called. She made up lies and stooped talking to me. I never told my parents
because I didnít want them to feel bad for me so I took all the guilt for her.
I started cutting again because I had no reason not to. I
decided to leave drugs behind because I suddenly took an interest in school. I
still have some of this going on. Iím still settling closure on ďMom.Ē Iím still
Iím still taking medication. Iím still a mess. I have
high hopes. I have a really good group of friends that care about me. My best
friend, Eileen is going through a lot of this with me, but Iím trying to keep
her away from self-destruction. She keeps me going. I have my dog, Lady. She
feels my pain. My boyfriend is always there, almost as much as the scars. Iím
trying to leave that behind. Iím doing a lot better, but Iím still in a hole.
Maybe my little escapade here will let people know that there is a light at the
end of this tunnel. Good luck. If youíre not already there, try like hell to
keep away from where Iíve been. Itís no good.
Thanks for reading