One Year Later

When I woke up this morning, I was exhausted and wanted coffee. It wasn’t until I was driving to school that I truly thought about what this day means for me.

A year ago, it was the last day of Thanksgiving break. The break had been hard for me. I  wasn’t interested in being involved with my family. I spent most of my break either crying or sleeping. Emotionally, I was spent. The past few months were rather difficult for me, especially with family. Little did I know, things were about to get much worse.

I lay in bed that night thinking about how poorly the break had gone. I worked myself until I was hysterical and only wanted one thing. I turned on my lamp and blinked and then rushed to my bookshelf. I dug around between my scrapbooks on the bottom shelf until I found what I was looking for. My razor.

That was Dec. 1, 2013. Today is Dec. 1, 2014. I made it a whole year without cutting.

That day was the last time I cut, although it wasn’t my rock bottom.

My rock bottom was on my birthday a month later. A few nights before, my parents had gotten in a huge blowout. The days following were hell for me. I spent most of my birthday weeping in bed and talking on the phone with my therapist.

After that, I took my recovery more seriously. I started channeling my energy into workouts and I forced myself to see my therapist pretty regularly until about April when things started to improve. I worked on building relationships with people that would be healthy for me.

In May, I posted my initial blog post about struggling with depression. The support I received was overwhelming. At that point, I decided to be as open as possible about what I had been through and what I was going through. To the point where I’m sick of writing about it and I’m sure everyone is sick of reading about it.

My advice to anyone struggling with cutting is to keep fighting. If you can’t do it for yourself, do it for the people that love you. You are worth it.

During the summer, I came very, very close to relapsing. I was still on crutches from my surgery and the pent up energy combined with a fight with a close friend pushed me over the edge. I thank God that I didn’t try very hard to cut that night when I did try. I also thank two very special people for responding immediately to my urgent calls.

I can’t tell you how empowering it feels to reach each milestone. At first, I counted days, then weeks, then months, and now I will start counting years. I encourage anyone who is struggling to speak up. You can do it.


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