Self-injury: ‘It’s been nearly 10 years since I last cut myself’
I was desperate to be a smarter, wittier, prettier, more successful version of myself.
Self-injury: ‘It’s been nearly 10 years since I last cut myself’
By Susan Jennings
This month marks the 10-year anniversary of the first column I ever wrote for the York Daily Record. I tend not to get too excited about anniversaries, but this one feels different. The column I wrote was about my own struggles with cutting.
At 23, I was a mess.
I was desperate to be a smarter, wittier, prettier, more successful version of myself.
Terrified about not knowing what I should do or who I should be. Convinced I’d never live up to any of the great expectations I imagined others had for me, and, strangely, also convinced that nobody actually had any expectations for me at all.
I was lonely and confused and lost in a new town. And on my lowest days and darkest moments, I’d cut myself. It was a coping mechanism I’d discovered back in high school. Each slice was an act of rebellion against the model student, responsible daughter and cheerful friend I was on the exterior. The silent scream of a person who hadn’t yet found her voice.
Over the years, the scars tallied up on my arms.
I can’t remember what made me write about it 10 years ago. And not just write about it, but then share what I wrote next to my picture in the Sunday paper for 90,000 people to read. Looking back, it seems, well, a little crazy.
Writing the column changed my life.