Cutting

Hi.  My name is Karin and I am a recovering cutter.  I am bringing this up because tonight I would like little more than to take a scissors and run it across the soft white skin on the inside of my left forearm.

The sweet warm relaxing feeling of the mental anguish draining from my body would be a welcome relief right about now.  It has been my drug of choice, my secret vice for quite sometime now.  I am so ashamed of it but at times I have needed it so badly.

I admitted to the Bulldogge tonight that cutting was something that I had done in the past.  When I explained to him what it was and why I chose to do it, he left the room and has yet to return.  I am not quite sure how to interpret this.  I am about 95% certain that he is disgusted with it and with me as well.      

My warning has always been that I am a scratch and dent person, not pristine by any means, but well
worth the effort to overlook my flaws.  And I AM in fact working on my issues including the cutting. I am not sure how I feel about this latest rejection.  If nothing else it has gotten my mind over obsessing over letting the pain out.

For the record, the last time I cut was just over a year ago.  Just about the time my divorce started.  In this moment it would feel excellent to drag the blade over my skin; just enough to break it open, but not enough to have a pool of blood form.  The emotional release of it is almost as euphoric as an orgasm...with its instantaneous release of pressure and waves of satisfying relief mixed with sheer pleasure that wash over you.

Tonight so far has been a victory.  I have not cut or harmed myself.  I want to desperately however.  But I am taking each moment, each emotion, each thought as it comes and doing my best to handle them as they move through me and past me.

Wish me luck, dear readers, for I will need it.  And thank you for standing by me and listening to my ramblings.