I CONFESS: Mummy’s abuse made me a cutter
I REMEMBER?WHEN I felt angry and depressed, and my mother would easily get into my head. I would break something, be it a glass or mirror, and take the broken pieces and cut myself.
Somehow, those broken pieces reminded me of my heart. As is happening now, at that time in my life people were hurting me, so I decided it was okay for me to hurt myself.
Besides, self-inflicted pain is the only form of pain I can control.
I control how much it hurts, how long it hurts, and most importantly, how deep it hurts.
I would take the broken pieces and cut across my vein, always remembering to never cut too deeply since God will never forgive me for taking my own life. The blood rushing down to my elbow and dripping to the floor provided much excitement, and the adrenaline rush was overwhelming as my blood lay thick and still on the floor.
The pain I felt from those cuts could not compare with the pain I felt from others, for theirs was much worse – almost fatal.
Of all the people who hurt me in my life, my mother hurt me the worst.
“I make you and I can break you,” seemed to be the mantra she lived by and she would often physically abuse me for no reason.
But the worst ill-treatment she dished out was her mental abuse. She could get inside my head and verbally degrade me.
She would often tell me that I was worthless and that I would never be anything in life. She said I would have no friends and that no good man would want me.
The mere fact that my mother thought so low of me drove me crazy since I thought that she would have been the one person who thought highly of me when others didn’t. She made me into a low self-esteemed person.
I don’t think too much of myself because of the constant “drilling” in my head that I was worthless. How can a mother say that to a child?
My mother replaced “I love you” with “you are worthless”. I believe the reason my mother got to me so easily was because my mother’s opinion mattered the most to me, so I believed what she said, and the proof is on my left hand. I remember when I felt angry and depressed . . . and cut myself.