Hello, I'm a cutter...

Why do I cut? What turned me into a self hater who scars his body and often wants to die?

I'm a 44 year old man who has seen his world fall apart two years ago. I was seriously injured on the job to the point of full disability. I can no longer do the job I lived to do, which was Police work. Add to that the fact that I suffer horrific pain everyday due to my back injury. I have crushed a total of 9 discs in my upper, middle and lower back and have to use a cane to walk.

Not only do I have permanent nerve damage, but as a result I lost function of my bladder and need to urinate with a catheter and a leg bag. I have had several surgeries to include a two level cervical fusion, an interstim implant for my bladder and a Morphine drug pump implant. Despite these surgeries, the Morphine pump and oral pain meds I am still in a great deal of pain all day and night; awake and sleeping. I still have a few more surgeries I must endure in the next year. This physical pain alone is one reason why I cut myself.

Since I don't have any control of the constant pain related to my back injury I at least have control over the pain I endure when I cut myself. I don't scratch myself...when I cut I cut deep and I have scars over 70% of my body. I often cut out of anger or frustration, because I lost my passion for life when I lost my career as a Police Officer. It's extremely difficult to go from being physically able to chase bad guys, make arrests and help others to someone who can barely walk and is in constant pain.

Over the past two years I have gone from a mentally confident and competent person to a mental basket case. Now I must say that prior to my career ending injury I suffered from PTSD and bouts of depression related to my Police experiences while employed by NYPD during 9-11 and survivor's guilt. Also, growing up I would from time to time cut myself. Oh yeah and when I was 13 years old I slit my wrist and OD on medication in an attempt to end my life. It was really tough covering up the huge ass scar on my wrist, especially while applying for work as a Police Officer. I don't regret the scar, I regret the fact that I lived. Looking back I guess there have been many times where I was in harms way and could of, should have died, but didn't. This happened more often of course during my Ten years of Police work. Looking back now I can honestly say that I wanted to be a Police Officer so I could die. Had you asked me while I was still working as a Police Officer I would have said it was so I could help people and save lives.

Anyways, I now suffer from a whole host of mental disorders, such as Major Depressive Disorder, BiPolar Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, PTSD and a couple of other disorders that escape me at this time. I'm taking a handful of medication daily in the hopes of controlling my mental and physical pain.

It's not working, I can't sleep and the urges to cut keep getting stronger. I also envision me cutting my own throat with a knife. I can be sitting on the couch watching a TV show and out of no where I see it...I see the knife in my hand held to my throat. I wonder, is this how I am supposed to die? I always hoped it would be via lead poison ( aka a bullet). No matter, I keep cutting and my wife sees the cuts and scars and naturally freaks out. I'm putting her through hell and that just adds to my anxiety and frustration that often boils over and results in even more cutting! I wish I could post pictures so you can see my scars and know that this is for real. I'm living a nightmare and I'm ashamed of myself for being so weak. Two years ago I was a decent role model for other Officers and the community I lived to protect and serve. Now...now I am suicidal and spend most of my time at home, in pain and alone.

The urges are becoming too great and I'm fast losing any control. My cuts are becoming deeper and deeper. How can I cut out the ugly side of me when...

[ Continued ]

So 2 weeks have gone by already. The 12 induction days are now over, what a relief ! I can still remember how I was living this, how days went by so slowly, with those 2 ‘girls’, those 2 bi*ches ‘rendering ‘ my life hell. Today, while we were on our meth doctor’s rendez-vous or consultation, one of my ex-induction friends (i accept to employ the word ‘friend’ here, how kind of me!) was talking over to me and that conversation TOOK ME BACK TO THE DAYS! Yes, back to the 12 induction days when we were all together, ha! To cut this story short (since I’m not writing about this today, some other day maybe…), I’m just glad I made it out! I imagined two more days with these animals in that cacophonic jukebox, that cacophonic cage, and I would have hung myself out dry, shyiiit. Believe it or not, I even made a rope out of my blanket, ready to be used… “Anytime!” I mumbled, without even shedding a tear, not even afraid of dying, well it was just for a few minutes, since that feeling quickly got out of me.

So today, when I went over to my meth doctor on consultation, the latter asked me if all’s well, if I didn’t get any side effects from my methadone or if I encountered any craving during my first week out and if I’m happy with my current meth dose. Well I told him the truth, nothing but the plain truth: every morning, I would wake up with my yawnings and running nose well, not as much as the time when I was addicted to heroin like back in the days LOL, but I’m not supposed to get any of this, not even an inch of all this ! My body was not on top mode, which is true as compared to the days when I was on induction. Even if I didn’t sleep at that time, my bosy was not as torn as it is now; we had less physical activities, less thinking to do and most of all, no stress at all, no phone ringing, no email to check, no meeting, nothing! As on my current life situation, when all’s back on other than the heroin cravings gone, I would have to, for instance, assist my parents in cleaning their yards, yes yards with an ‘s’. The truth? Well, I prefer to stay at work premises rather than spend a day home when my parents are at home as well since there would always be somewhere to go, something to do, no rest at all. And the days where we have nothing to do (meaning no cleaning or house chores), well, we would spend the days at the beach swimming and running on the beach. And I’d be all cranked up the next day at work, body all messed up, cramps, etc…

So I told all this to my meth doc and the latter just thought that was gibberish, from what I could conclude. The first thing he would mention was that I didn’t do as much physical efforts in an office, forgetting the fact that office is a part of my life. He said he would raise my daily meth dose but the question remains, since he didn’t write anything in front of me, and that’s quite discouraging.

Because then, the devil would lurk around me and maybe at a later stage, push me back on the streets who knows?? I know very well that a higher meth dose (maybe a 5ml raise might do to start with) is not recommended. Is it not better to be on a relatively higher meth dose than to hit back the streets ?

Think about it !

I just don't understand my "family". I leave my purse and wallet out on the table and they come and go through it. They just pick my wallet up and flip through my check book. And when I said something my grandmother got mad. She just got mad and smarted me off, then walked away. It's like this all the time, it's like I'm supposed to let them run over me and do or say whatever they want about me or my stuff, and if I say anything I'm a bitch or I don't know what I'm talking about. Honestly it makes me sick just to be here. Sometimes I just feel like I can't take it anymore, like my time is over and I should just commit suicide.

I was diagnosed with AvPD and SAD and I was wondering if anyone has a horrible problem with eye contact and being touched?
I have never been able to make eye contact unless I absolutely felt like it was necessary so that I didn't seem rude.
I can't make eye contact with my dad no matter what and I can barely make eye contact with my mom.

I also have a hard time dealing with being touched. When someone accidentally touches me, I literally cringe. I then feel like I need to go wash whatever part they touched me. I can't be touched by my dad because it just feels horrible! If he touches me, I feel like I'm going to cry. I'm okay with my mom touching me SOMETIMES, but she doesn't want to touch me because she has issues of her own.
I just hate being touched so much. Hugs and hand shaking are horrifying for me.
I want to get over this, but at the same time I just really don't want to ever be touched.

I'm 19 years old and for my entire life I've been having troubles feeling anything at all. I always thought there was some logical and simple explanation to why I wasn't like everyone else, and I assumed it would heal with time, but it didn't. It just keeps getting worse. First let me begin with that I'm completely unable to open up to other people. I have never opened up. To anyone. If I'm even close to doing it I feel disgusted by myself, I get nausea and an urge to flee. I've also never cared like others. I can't really feel empathy. Or I mean, I can, for like animals and my family, but no one else. I'm literally serious when I say my best friend could die tomorrow and I wouldn't be able to feel a thing. Obviously I'd think it's sad, but it wouldn't effect me on an emotional level.

I hide this part of me, and I certainly don't talk about it with anyone. I want to be normal but I just can't. I have tried to involve myself in other people, in relationships, and even - in my sillier moments - in love. But it doesn't work. Something in me is broken or missing. I love my immediate family, but that's about it. I can lie without feeling any kind of remorse, I manipulate people very easily, and when someone really gets on my bad side, I just attack their weaknesses and break them down with words. It's terrible, I know, but I can't stop. Even as I write it, I know I say it's terrible, but I don't feel terrible. I just know that it's not how a person should act. I could never physically hurt another person, but not because it would make me feel bad but more because I know it's wrong.

My condition is just getting worse, I've started to distance myself from everybody because I feel so tired of wearing a mask and constantly faking to like what they like or play their stupid games. I don't love others. I'm incapable of feeling on a deeper level, there are no strong emotions in me. I feel narcisstic but at the same time I hate myself. I can get furious very easily but it goes away as quickly as it comes. I haven't had such a bad childhood but I mean my mother was going through her hardest part of life when I was a kid, and she took it out on me a lot. Sometimes physically but mostly mentally, such as I constantly heard that I was a bad kid, and bad news, and she blamed me for a lot of stuff that wasn't really my fault. She changed and got so much better when I was like 13 or something and now she's the best mom ever and apologized 200 times but I can't seem to let go. It's stuck with me.. I'm seriously worried that my condition will become worse and something bad will happen... What's wrong with me?