“My journey” the story of AM.C

I had the privilege to meet this amazing person AM.C and had the opportunity to know her story.
I am glad she opened with me and wanted to share her story with the world.
As her wish I will not publish her name and show the face

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It’s hard to say what happened. I think it was numbers of things to lead me to not like who I was. So it wasn’t just one thing it was lots of things and the feelings of self hate that was so strong I didn’t know what to do with it.

Started of just using blunt things and then it progressing to piece of plastic that were broken.
The feelings, the emotions and thoughts, everything I had while I did it. Didn’t exist. It numbs the emotional pain. For me these were more unbearable than physical pain.
I started to pull the sleeves down. It was really slow to start of with and the thought to use really sharp object haven’t passed my mind. Not at that point.
Then I had a friend that also self harm who gave me a raiser. Once I got that it was an obsession. Constant. I couldn’t be a day without doing it.

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My arm was the start. My legs, my stomach. I got one point where I got to choose a part of the body that wasn’t already cut and that’s why I progressed to the other parts of the body. I liked to find new flesh cause I liked to see it. I liked to watch it. If you do it over already cut flesh… for me wouldn’t have the same impact.

In my brain I deserve it. I’m a bad person. It was numbers of emotions and feelings. All of that became addicted. I supposed it’s the same way you start smoking. You know it’s no good for you but you want a cigarette.
Because I hated my self I really enjoyed hurting my self. So there was enjoyed in it. I was fascinated with the human body. If I was feeling really really bad I could push really hard. When I pushed really hard as I swiped the raiser you can literally see the flesh open up. You can see what is inside. It doesn’t instantly bleed. It takes few second. One it starts it’s really hard to stop…

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I cut my wrist. Cause I wasn’t living at home I was always trying to build a relation ship with my mum. Cause I loved her and missed her but I don’t know. She wasn’t able to have a relationship with me. There was often visits organised by social workers and staff. She just wasn’t show up. One time she basically told me… I can’t even remember what it was. To me was a rejection. It was like she didn’t want anything to do with me and I was 16. The rejection from my mum was… I think was probably one of the only time I cut to die if that make any sense. All the others time it was cuts to relieve. To make living bearable. It was one of only time I remember cutting cause I actually didn’t want to live and that’s why I did cut my wrist.

I remember people telling me “there is a light at the end of the tunnel” and I was just like “there is no light. I can’t see it. It’s too fucking dark”

I never completely stopped until I felt pregnant.
I guess once I felt pregnant and my experience been in care. I knew if I didn’t stop then my child would be probably taken away from me and put into cares and it’s no something I wanted to. So it was having my first child that made me think “ok, I need to stop”.
Not for me but for my child.

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Maybe I did few times in a year after my mum died and then stopped again until I separate from my husband. I didn’t do it straight away after we separated. Must be a year or so after. I guess I was just trying to hold it together and I couldn’t hold it together for much longer. To deal with the pain I had to make pain.

Now i’m not doing it. I don’t feel I need to. I have moments. It’s a pattern when things are difficult it’s the first thing I think to do but just because I think to do it doesn’t mean I do.
I just tell my self now it’s going to pass. The feelings are going to pass. I guess. Tomorrow is a new day and you might not feel the same tomorrow.
Life can be really really tough but it can be also really really nice.

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Just talk. That’s all I say to anybody I know or I come across.
It’s not something you opening discuss. It’s something you hide it like something to be ashamed of. Just find somebody to talk to and don’t give up.