Today marks two years since I last self-harmed. I am nearly 35 years old, and this is the longest period of time I have ever managed. I’ve gone months, even a year, without hurting myself, only to relapse and hurt myself again. Over 20 years of being unable to break the cycle, always falling back on self-injury as a way of coping. I needed it; some days it was the only thing that kept me alive. It was my compromise: “I won’t act on these thoughts to end my life right now; I will harm myself instead and try and hang on a little longer.” This deal with myself, over and over again, is quite literally why I am still alive today.
Self-harm is an addiction—it gets hold of you and becomes almost impossible to stop. It’s also hard for others to understand:
But why?
How does it help?
These are some of the obvious questions, and I’ll be honest, I’ve never really had the answers. The best way I can describe it is like an itch. It builds until you can’t ignore it, and you have to scratch it. In doing so, there is immediate relief, like you’ve been holding your breath and you suddenly get to exhale. As for the why, for me, it took an internal pain and made it external. The torment I felt in my head and my heart was suddenly a physical one. I could see it. Not only could I see it, but others could, too.
When I was younger, self-injury was often referred to as “attention seeking,” and I used to get so angry. I was livid at the implication that I was only doing it for “attention,” without any recognition of the sheer agony I was in mentally. However, as an adult, I understand that it was attention-seeking, in some capacity. I was in so much pain and didn’t have the words to explain it.
Self-injury was both a way of coping for me and a way of showing others I was not OK.
As I got older, it remained a way of communicating that I was struggling. When seeking professional help, I found that help was swifter and more thorough if I had harmed myself than if I hadn’t. The unspoken truth was that it was used as a measure of how unwell they deemed me to be. This solidified the thought that if I wanted others to know how bad things were, then I needed to have self-harmed. This reinforced belief then made it even harder to stop, and the whole cycle continued.
I have found that the topic of self-harm is rarely talked about, especially as an adult. It always felt like something I should have grown out of, as it’s so often associated with teenage girls. I’ve felt ashamed and guilty as someone who self-harmed to cope. I’ve known people who did it when they were younger, but I have yet to meet anyone who still did it as an adult in their thirties. I know there are people out there, but not knowing anyone I could relate to felt isolating and added more shame and feelings of failure. I couldn’t stop, and I never thought I would.
But here I am. Two years. The recovery has been slow. There have been urges, and there have been moments I nearly relapsed; it’s hard to break a 20-year habit. If you were to ask me how I finally have, I’m not sure there’s an answer. The right medication has been a big factor, as has having effective therapy with the right therapist. I have also put the work in by advocating for myself and fighting for what I needed, even when I felt unworthy of help. I celebrated the small wins, and over time, these added up and grew into big wins.
I’m sharing my story because I want there to be more of an open conversation about self-harm. I don’t want people like me to feel alone, stuck in a cycle of self-harm and shame. I have lived the majority of my life feeling hopeless, broken, and unable to find reasons to keep living. I have tried to take my own life more than once and become irrationally angry when people told me it would get better. No, it wouldn’t, what would they know? Depression took hold of me when I was young, and at this point, I don’t remember a time in my life without it. More than half my life has been lived in the shadow of depression, self-harm, and suicidality. To go two years without harming myself is a huge achievement, and while recognizing that, I can’t say I won’t ever harm myself again. The truth is, I know I’m just one bad day away from relapsing. But with age has come more resilience, more tools to cope, and the knowledge that so far I have survived all of my worst days.
You are worthy of love and grace, from others and yourself. You are enough, here and now. If you’re dealing with self-injury or self-harm, we encourage you to use TWLOHA’s FIND HELP Tool to locate professional help and to read more stories like this one here. If you reside outside of the US, please browse our growing International Resources database. You can also text TWLOHA to 741741 to be connected for free, 24/7 to a trained Crisis Text Line counselor. If it’s encouragement or a listening ear that you need, email our team at [email protected].