First time you ever experimented with self-harm?

I was 16 when I met a girl whose first words to me is,

"I have problems. You're innocent and I really shouldn't be your friend."

I didn't have many friends then (still don't now) and I wanted to be her friend because no one was talking to her.

One day I saw her scars on her wrists and asked her what happened. Did her cat scratched her? Nope, she did it to herself becausr she wanted to feel something when she felt numb.

She became on of the cool kids and I was mostly alone again. I wanted to be cool so I copied her. I didn't realize then that self-harm was addicting. At first, I tolf myself I'll do it once and will never do it again.

I was lying to myself.

Advice: If you think that self-harm is cool or you want to start for one reason or another. Don't. Just don't. It's not worth it.

I started cutting when I was 9 or 10. But before that, around when I was 7 I would dig my nails into my arm (often drawing blood) when upset or stab my hand with long thorns that grew where I played a lot as a child. I also began starving myself at about 8. So I started by 10 at least depending on if you wish to count the others as self harm or not

My story is a bit different. The first time I self harmed was yesterday. I don't remember what led up to it, all I remember is my evident frustration and anger at my self, people around me, and the world that I have to live in. It was so sudden. One moment I was leaving the bathroom and heading to bed, and the next moment I was holding a blade up to my thigh. It was one of the scariest moments of my life. I was aware that after I've done this I will never be the same person again. My mind was coming up with with every single crazy scenario, such as my mum barging into my room and accusing me and calling me crazy. For some time I just sat there with the blade inches away from my thigh thinking that I am set to add another imperfection to my body in the form of scars. But then I remembered that scars are beautiful. I closed my eyes and I just pulled on the blade across my skin. The moment I did that, all my doubts left me. I felt like I was floating, like the while weight just dropped from my shoulders. It was one of the best feelings in the world. The moment I started cutting, I forgot about being reluctant and scared because I would give anything to feel this relief again. I can only take so much pain until I need to cut out places in my body for the pain to bleed from. I no longer felt sad, angry, lonely, like a huge hole was in my chest sucking the life out of me. I didn't feel numb. I felt happy. For a while I just watched the droplets of blood and the blood coating my leg. That's when reality set in I think. I have cut myself for the first time. I had to go through the painful process of healing my wounds and stopping the bleeding but not once did the happy feeling leave me. I left my room then to get some tissue only to stop in the hallway. The world is still spinning on its own axis. My family is watching a movie laughing and commenting on interesting scenes. Nothing changed. Yet that night I felt like for the first time in my life, I'm not the same anymore.

I don't remember that much about the first time I cut, it was a long while back and I tend to not remember many things.

I was in gr 8 or 9 and had been thinking a lot about self harm for a while, but i didn't do it as a few years back my sister had self harmed. But I thought about it a lot. I don't remember exactly why but it was a while before this that I had also had my first anxiety attack.

But I couldn't hold myself from doing it forever. The first time I cut I used a blade that I got out of an old stump pencil sharpener. I cut myself on my left thumb. And did that for a while before someone noticed.

Earlier in life I had also done self harmful acts, but it was only later that I realized that they were actually also considered self harm. My first memory of doing such acts go to before I was in grade one.

The first time I ever tried to self harm was when I was 13 but I could barely breach through my skin. I gave up and hated myself for it. I decided I wanted to try it again a few months ago and at first it was a small scratch or burn but its escalated and each time I go deeper... it doesn't scare me though.

the first time i self harmed i'd just turned 13 and i had gotten to know a lot of new people on the internet. they're not bad people in any way but they were all in pretty bad places mentally, and they all cut. sometimes they would show pictures of their cuts and i would feel so helpless because there was no way i could help them with the long distance. so after i while i figured i'd try cutting because hey they did, so why couldn't i? and then i started cutting regularly, and for about a year i didn't even see it as something serious because i thought i could stop whenever i wanted - but of course i couldn't. yeah anyway, that's my first times.

My fist time was around the age of 14.. it had been about a year since my cousin Zach (who I looked up to as the big brother I never had) killed himself... around this time my grandmother (who is my legal guardian) found out I had had boyfriend and had send pics to him and he had sent some back to me. When she found out she called me many rude names (she had already called me a few long before this like a two-bit hoker (I'm from the south) such as slut and so a night or teo after she called me that I went to my bathroom and took a blade I had taken from a sharpener and wrote "PAIN" on my arm.. when she found out (because my aunt and uncle noticed and made me tell her) she said it was for attention even tho I had kept it from her for about a year.. now I'm 17 living with my sister and still hiding it... she only ever asked if I was still cutting once I lied and just said I was cold but she didn't even bother to look to see if I was lying... and hasn't caught on that I still am.

The first time I ever cut myself was when I was 12 or 13 and I had seen one of my best friends with scars all over her arms and legs. I only tried it once but it became a solution to all of my problems. It took me so long to realize that hurting myself was hurting other people, but when I did realize that, it made me want to do it more. Recently, my ex boyfriend saw my relapse scars. He knew I struggled with it in the past but not about how bad it was. He held me and cried and told me he still cares about me and that he blamed himself. I felt so awful for hurting him, because I still love him so much, and apparently he loves me too. That was two months ago and I've relapsed only three times, which is a lot better than I've been doing this past year.

The first time I self-harmed I was 14 and I don't even know how it happened and I had never would've even thought about doing it until then. I had seen my friend from school cutting (one time right in front of me) and I knew I could never do that. Now on a completely different day of the year something happened.

I cut myself. But not really... I didn't have the guts to cut my skin and see me bleed, but instead (this will sound stupid) I took a plastic knife (though only plastic it was sharp af) and I cut like it was an actual knife. I didn't bleed it was only plastic of course, but it left deep red scratch marks, they were gone within 9 hours (I kept count) and I didn't bleed. It was like a step up from cutting for me.

And I became addicted. I enjoyed it. I could put down the knife after I was done and not touch it for a while, but when I was holding it I couldn't stop. Sometimes when I look at knives or scissors now I actually think I might be able to actually cut myself with them, but that still kind of scares me. I haven't touched that knife for about 6 months because of this even though I really want to.

It was as recent as a couple of weeks back. I have been suffering from anxiety and depression for past 6 months. And a couple of weeks back, I felt like I can't take it anymore, the pain was too much. I was trying to watch a movie when I started to hit back of my palm with the remote. Then for some reason I went to kitchen and grabbed a chopping knife to replace the remote. I kept on hitting continuously, the pain increased but it felt good because it was keeping the depressing thoughts from entering my mind. But after a while, the sensation where j was hitting myself was gone, I couldn't feel anything. This happened at night around dinner time and the next day then back of my palm was red and swollen.

since that day I have been trying to find new ways to inflict physical pain on myself to distracts myself from the emotional turmoil I'm going through.