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IGNORE THIS IM JUST POSTING IT HERE SO I CAN GET IT SOMEWHERE ELSE

My story, pt. 2:
That was my first time SH'ing. I won't go into gory details but, yeah. At 11 years old, I was involved in a drug raid which made my paranoia incredibly bad. I don't feel comfortable going into great detail about my relationship at 13, but I'm sure you could conjure up ideas of what took place. I escaped from that, and by this point, I was in a terrible place. My self harming had intensified and gotten much worse, the cuts no longer scratch-like, but ones requiring stitches. I was full of self hate, and hate towards everyone and everything. I started drinking a lot as a way of coping with what was going on in my mind, and I fell into the wrong crowd of people. These people were very bad for me, I was vulnerable - they noticed that and took advantage of it. Thereafter, I fell into an incredibly deep depression. I couldn't get out of bed. I couldn't eat, or sleep, or shower, or drink. I just layed in bed, staring at a wall, cutting myself up and burning myself with my beloved lighter, and listening to certain songs. I got sicker and sicker, and started having suicidal thoughts. Of course at that time I could never have even attempted suicide, I was too sad. Too sad to kill myself... My family noticed, and I got referred to a doctor. I got diagnosed with depression and borderline personality disorder, at 14. 

My life just went on like that for a long time, self harming, crying, feeling down, feeling suicidal. I eventually did attempt suicide, quite a few times, which isn't something I like to admit. I was sick and I recognised this. I needed to do something about it, I just didn't know what. I felt so helpless, hearing voices and hallucinating daily, tormented with the memories of my past experiences. I sort of had an epiphany one day, I realised I couldn't go on this way. I tried so hard to recover, and I stopped self harming for a whole year. I felt more confident in myself and more positive overall. Things were going okay.

I slipped up. When I was 15, I picked up the razorblade again. I tore into my body and created more scars, which have faded with time. I was so disappointed in myself and kept falling into spells of depression. My life was literally like an emotional rollercoaster. And so things continued in the way they previously did, until I met someone. If he reads this I know he'll be like 'what the fk? I didn't do anything special.' But in all honesty, he was the person who inspired me to sort of, help myself and turn my life around. He has helped me immensely and I'm so, so grateful for him. I love him. He knows who he is - the most freaking amazing person in my life. It sounds crazy considering the circumstance between us, but I swear, it's true. I'm so thankful for him.

This has cut a bit short but it's late and I can't be bothered typing more. That's a watered-down version of my life story. At the moment, I'm doing a lot better. I hear voices from time to time but I know how to stop them. I still get down quite often but not nearly as severe as I used to. I actually have realised that I'm not completely worthless, and that I deserve a life. I feel more positive in myself and more positive about most things now. I still have thoughts of self harming when I'm stressed, depressed, angry, sad or anxious, but at the moment I haven't hurt myself for 18 days, and I'm determined to increase that number.

 I'm Pippa and I'm 16 years of age. There isn't really much to me. :)

IGNORE THIS IM JUST POSTING IT HERE SO I CAN GET IT SOMEWHERE ELSE

My story, pt. 1.
I'm not too sure what to write here, I guess I'll just explain my 'story' bit by bit, so anybody who happens to stumble across me understands me slightly better.

Ahoy, I'm Pippa and I'm 16 years of age. There isn't really much to me. I'm from bonnie Scotland, although it's not actually too bonnie. Then again that could be my oh so pessimistic side kicking in. I apologise in advance directly to you reading this, as I have a tendency to ramble. Anyway, so, me. I'm weird. I have a great music taste. I'm covered in piercings, which is slightly ironic as I'm starting to hold Christian beliefs. In my past, I would never even have considered slightly conforming to a religion - I used to hate everyone and everything, because of things that happened to me. As personal as it is, I decided to share my story and that I shall do.

It mostly started during my childhood. I grew up with my autistic, then violent brother who is a mere year younger than me, my two sisters, my mother and my dad. I grew up in a household where my mother was always stressed and drunk, where my dad was always away working, he had to go to Afghanistan. I grew up with my heroin addict sister, whom I found out a few weeks ago doesn't share the same dad as me. Anyway, I had a decent childhood, it was hard but could've been way worse. At times my mother was incredibly physically and verbally abusive, but as I have matured, I've learnt to accept that and have a slight touch of empathy towards her. At the age of ten, I was rxped by an unknown man. At the age of 13, I entered into an abusive relationship, which I won't go into the details of. I wound up bloody and bruised and mentally broken.

At ten, I started hearing voices, and hallucinating. I'd hear multiple voices, both male and female, shouting and screaming at me as though they were there in the room with me. They did, and still to this day, although not as severe, call me disgusting names, make up suicide plans, and tell me to hurt myself, and hurt other people. I also started seeing a man. I now call him the 'shadow man,' because he is well... a shadow. He's a tall, and very big man. He has no facial features, it's just a blank space. He wears a long coat and a fedora hat, and he just stands there and observes. He laughs at me and does the same things as the voices. Anyway... I didn't want to hurt other people. It wasn't in my nature. I had so much anger, guilt, fear and shame built up though that I feared one day I may just snap and give into my demon's demands. That's when the self harm started. The rxpe, along with bullying which was taking place, and my mental demons altogether created an immense pressure in my mind which I had to release in a non-violent way. It could be argued that SH is violent, but I don't/didn't see it that way as it was only aimed at myself. I picked up a pair of blunt nail scissors one day I was in the bath, and just sliced my forearm. It hurt, because they were blunt, and it took a while to make the incisions but once it was done I felt fulfilled in a way. I liked the look of the blood, I made myself bleed the way the man in the alleyway made me bleed.