Up until a few years ago I wasn’t aware that there were other people who would cut themselves like I used to. It’s been almost 13 years now since I last did it.
As a Christian in limbo, I knew God had more for me and didn’t want me to hurt myself. He was gracious to bring to mind scripture from John 10:10 where Jesus tells us, “The thief does not come except to steal, and to kill, and to destroy. I have come that they may have life and that they may have it more abundantly.” (NKJV) I was not feeling the abundant life. I bought into the lies the enemy was whispering to my heart.
Though I’d endured the loss of a close friend mentally whose tragedy I’d witnessed at 12. I really feel it was only the breaking point for me mentally. I believe I had a hereditary chemical imbalance causing depression as well. I initially allowed the enemy to prey on me when I was weak. Rather than getting into prayer and getting psychiatric help, I submitted to the demonic despair.
I think back to those ages between 13 and 16 when I was cutting. Wow, I was a different person! I would cut during class by using my fish hook earring back or lay in my bed with a sharp object. I can’t explain the feeling completely. My mind was not focused on the pain. It was kind of a manifestation of the pain I was feeling inside being released to the surface. I know my parents saw something going wrong with me but weren’t sure quite what to do initially.
I recall when I was about 14 sitting at the edge of my bed tormented by thoughts of suicide that I knew I’d never carry out. I didn’t want to die; I just wanted the feelings of despair and hopelessness to end. I cried out to God and as I did I recalled a card that a counselor once gave me with a list of toll free hotlines to call. I knew I couldn’t go on with life feeling the way I did. I wasn’t sure what a person on the other end would be able to do for me. I was afraid of the outcome. I didn’t know if my parents would be angry, or if anyone would even care. What I did know is that it was a door with a possible way out of my pain.
I called and the lady on the other end was not judgmental. She talked to me as a friend would and asked if she could call my parents and talk with them about what was going on. I was very nervous about that. I was embarrassed about my actions, but I gave her the okay.
She contacted my dad at work and my dad came home. He didn’t rub in my face what was going on or make me feel awkward. He took me to the doctor who put me on some anti-depressants. I wish I could say I stopped cutting right away, but it was like an addiction to me. I stopped cutting once I realized I didn’t have to be in bondage to the pain anymore. When my medication began to work, I was able to begin focusing more on God and His love for me. I recognized He was with me all along and clearly there was a spiritual battle going on around me; and the decision of who to turn to was mine. I learned to discern between the deceitfulness of the enemy telling me I’ll feel better if I cut, and the voice of the Lord wanting me to lay everything down at His feet and seek His face. I’m glad I chose Him. The Lord is right. He does come to give us an abundant life. Things can and do get better if we will turn them over to Christ.
If you or someone you know deals with cutting or other self-destructive behavior or thoughts, there really is help. For more information on cutting behaviors, please check out Families.com’s forum thread on the subject.
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