A Timeline Of My Self Harm
In roughly March of 2017, while struggling with the loneliness of university, I cut myself for the first time. Prior to this I had never knowingly engaged in self-harm, but with hindsight I know it's not the first time I intentionally tried to hurt myself.
~1st Grade
We had a playground at our school with metal bars you could climb on. I started whacking my arm on the metal bars as long and hard as I could before telling the teacher I had an accident.
It wasn't anything serious and the teacher said it would be fine, much to my disappointment, as I really wanted to go to the nurses station so I could get the ice they give out to kids who got hurt.
6th Grade
I was being bullied at school for the last ~2 years and for reasons I don't know I scratched the name of one of my harshest bullies into my arm using a protractor.
A separate classmate (who unfortunately shared the same name) saw it and I hid it, yet strangely didn't hide it from my parents when I got home nor did I understand the severity of what I had done.
October 2017
I cut down to "Beans" (subcutaneous fat) for the first time while in a public toilet.
I knew I wanted to cut deeper this time and even chose the bathroom such that it would be within walking distance of the hospital so I could get stitches.
The reason for this escalation in behavior is similarly unknown to me.
November 2017
I had my first serious suicide attempt via an overdose of acetaminophen/paracetamol.
Being honest, it was probably partially a self-harm attempt. I had picked my method specifically to give me the best chances if I decided to back out and I took it all nearby to the hospital.
I still stand by this method if I ever have the conviction of going down that path again.
October 2019
By this point my self harm had evolved and I began buying suture kits so I could begin treating my wounds at home due to my guilt, distrust and discomfort of going to hospitals which had developed over the years.
I had also begun experimenting with using the suture kit for my self harm by threading sutures through my arm. I rationalized this as a method of harm reduction that didn't lead to heavy bleeding or scarring and I could fiddle with the sutures for a while to prolong the experience.
Unfortunately this month was also the first time I hit a minor artery and although there wasn't any spurting blood the flow was consistent, seeping through my bandage, pants and onto the chair I sat on in hospital.
October 2025
I'd had a number of sporadic clean streaks in my self harm but at this point I felt my life was crumbling.
The pattern of cutting was in full swing and I had also begun experimenting with needles and doing corset "piercings" using suture thread, needles and skin staples.
My leg was already covered in sutures and during a particularly bad week I was left with minimal real estate with which to work and made the rather unfortunate decision of creating a small grid of fleshy cubes by cutting in both directions.
Presenting to the hospital, I was informed the little islands of meat had no viable blood flow and would become necrotic unless they took me in for surgery and cut a larger section out which they could then close cleanly.
Prior to this I had never been under GA and I learned that it is a terrifying experience for me that turns me into an embarrassing sobbing mess.
November 2025
I made my first cuts on my wrists.
Although very shallow and akin to scratches more than anything else I desperately wanted something I could look at that validated my struggles.
Prior to this all my self harm was done to my thighs or limited to needles/scratching.
March 2026
I've now reached a rather unfortunate all-time high of simultaneous sutures: 67, after breaking a promise with my partner not to cut.
My thigh is a disgusting map of colourful scars with peaks and valleys like the spines of those wooden frogs you run a wooden rod down to create a ribbit sound.
Why I Rely On Self Harm
As I draw closer to a decade of self harm I've had more time to understand why I rely on it as a crutch.
Ultimately what I care about the most isn't the pain or blood, but two less intuitive things:
When you're bleeding all other problems become insignificant and can be forgotten. The only thing that matters is treating the wound.
Getting a wound treated is something I'm competent at. Whether I treat it myself or apply a strong bandage and go to the hospital, my brain doesn't care that I'm the reason the wound exists in the first place.