ISWIS

My first cut happened at the age of 15. And I vividly remember the day. Nothing felt like it was as it should’ve been to my teenage mind. I couldn’t talk to any adults because there were none who were emotionally present. I couldn’t talk to my siblings because they were just as emotionally constipated as I was. So I took my sadness into my own hands and carved up my arm. I wish I could say that my mother noticed the bandage I started wearing on my forearm. But she didn’t, even though I wore it daily. It wasn’t until I went to my father’s for summer break that my step mother asked why I had it on. That’s the summer I was given my bipolar diagnosis.