One Girl On Cutting

When I posted about the book Willow, I received a response from Valentina about her experience with cutting herself.

When I was a teenager, I cut myself, not with a knife, but with the fingernails I had grown so long that they could break my skin. I was perfectly happy with myself and my body, but I did it because I had no other way to express my anger and frustration. I had a diary, but writing it down wasn’t enough, I had to feel the anger coming out. The pain felt good to me. I felt that if I told anyone they would mock me, and I just couldn’t bring myself to show any emotions,she wrote.

I asked 20 year old Valentina Von Kleist, of Toronto, Canada to expand on her comment in order to give The Girl Revolution insight into this coping behavior.

When I was around 13 years old, I started to cut myself with my fingernails. I had grown them about half an inch long by this point, and when I dug them into my arms, they would bleed a bit, and leave little crescent shaped marks. They weren’t very deep, but they were painful enough for me. I did this about once a week. It could be triggered by lots of different things, sometimes my parents would say something inadvertently that upset me, I was bullied a lot throughout elementary school, for various things including my OCD, and a lot of times that (the bullying) caused it. For some reason, I had a lot of problems showing any sort of emotion, so I wrote it all down in a diary. Sometimes, though, that didn’t help. I needed to actually feel the anger and hurt leaving my body. Despite the bullying, my body image was absolutely fine, and I had to work very hard to keep it up. When I was around 9 I came very close to developing anorexia, I don’t remember how I recovered from that, I suppose I realized what I was doing to myself. I was often jealous of my childhood best friend, who I felt “ditched me” to hang around with other girls (who I didn’t like). I lived in a small town, and I felt restricted, like I was in prison. I read all sorts of travel magazines, and I dreamed of being able to travel to other places. Elementary school was a prison to me, a glass cube. I could see what was out there, but I couldn’t reach it. Just existing was not enough for me, I wanted to really live. I had maps plastered all over my walls, five shelves of National Geographic Magazines. I rejected the superficialities of other kids. All I wanted was to travel, and I was frustrated that I couldn’t leave my house without my parent’s supervision. I still feel this way, I suppose, but I have found other outlets.

As I said before, I had great difficulty showing emotion. I have absolutely no idea why I was in this state. Once, I threw my jewelry box at a wall, which grabbed the attention of my mother. I thought no one understood me (as many teens do), and I didn’t want the attention of my parents. Once, they noticed the scars, and made a huge, rather embarrassing fuss. I wore long sleeves to hide the marks after that, no matter how hot I was. Later, I developed a panic disorder and agoraphobia. I became afraid of people due to the amount of bullying I had gone through my whole life, I thought everyone was out to get me and became paranoid. One night, I had a severe anxiety attack, I was shaking and trembling for no apparent reason, I was taken to the hospital, and the doctor recommended a psychiatrist for me.

I’ve stopped cutting now. High school was a pleasant change from elementary school, the bullying stopped, and I made lots of friends. One night, I looked at the scars on my arms, and I thought “What am I doing to myself?” And from then on, I stopped. Cutting myself helped me cope with emotions I couldn’t share with anyone, emotions I had no way to express, but as of now I have found a much more productive outlet for my feelings: my music. I play piano and violin, and I realized that the music sounded so beautiful when I put emotions into it, no matter what they were, and I’m proud of myself for being able to create beauty out of such ugly actions and feelings.

Share and Enjoy

No related posts.