Here’s what I remember about the first time I cut myself: I was mad. As a writer, I wish I could come up with something more literary, such as: ‘The cuts provided a route through my skin for the emotions to escape.’ Or maybe: ‘I used it to translate emotional pain into physical pain.’ Or even, perhaps: ‘I engraved my suffering into my skin, turmoil writ large for all the world to see.’
These are, to some extent, true. But that’s not what I was thinking the first time I picked up a pair of scissors and slashed at my thighs. Mostly, I was pissed off.
I had argued with my mom over something so banal it has long since disappeared into the dustbin of memory. And, in a fit of adolescent fury, I stormed into my bedroom and slammed the door. Blind with rage, I picked up a pair of scissors and turned them over in my hand. The next thing I knew, I was staring at tiny pearls of blood on my leg. The fog of anger had lifted.
I quickly patched myself up, rather shamefaced. The scissors were old and the blades were dull, so I had done minimal physical damage. Then or now, I couldn’t explain what had come over me. I vowed never to do it again. Within two weeks, I had broken that vow.
Over the years, I’ve tried to explain self-injury to my therapists, my parents, my friends and, most recently, my husband. Everyone has the same plaintive question: ‘Why?’ Mostly, I just shrug my shoulders and mutter: ‘Dunno.’ I don’t tell them that I am asking the same question of myself. I don’t enjoy the process, nor do I like the scars. It’s shameful and embarrassing. I desperately wanted to stop, but one thing kept getting in my way: after I cut, I felt better.
Although I have written extensively about my mental health history – I have a psychiatric rap sheet that stretches as long as my arm – I rarely mention self-injury. Depression, anxiety, anorexia, even suicide attempts – all of those feel infinitely more explicable than the recurrent pull of the razor. I am not alone in my shame or my struggles. A 2006 study in Pediatrics estimates that nearly one in five college students have deliberately injured themselves at least once. Approximately six per cent of young adults will injure themselves repeatedly. Although death caused directly by self-injury is relatively rare, even occasional self-harm dramatically increases the risk of suicide attempts and completed suicides.
Why so many of us keep hitting the self-destruct button still isn’t clear, but a new era of studies in psychology and neuroscience offer a richer picture of why, for some of us, feeling bad means feeling good.
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