Self Harm: Did Anyone Find Out and How Did They Take It?

So, I started cutting my wrists very recently... like yesterday and tonight and honestly my fasination with watching the blood dripping from the cuts and how much I like to do it freaks me out, but that's not the point.

The point is... well, I'm obviously going through a rough time right now. I'm not going into details, but my friends have been worried about me being depressed for a while now and they told the counselor about it, but he did nothing, but still asks me if I'm talking to a therepist (which I lie and say I am). My mom is the most important person to me right now since I'm fighting with my sisters and my dad every since he moved out two weeks ago. Honestly, it would break her heart to know I was hurting myself and it would upset my friends and my counselor would likely put me on medication...

...I'm just not ready for that...

So I was wondering if anyone on here whose ever cut has some stories on either how they kept people from finding out or how they were caught and what happened to them when they were.

I used to cut my wrists and my legs to get away from the things that were going on with my life...Nobody ever found out because I used to wear long sleeved tops and my family and friends just thought it was normal for me and I liked to wear them but really I was hiding my cuts. I used to also wear sweat bands over the cuts too so nobody would find out.

Nobody did find out though and I stopped a while ago...I told my girlfriend and I knew she was cutting too so we were kinda like each others support.

I can't remember how long I cut for. It was definitely over a year, maybe even two. I used to keep it hidden with long sleeves and band merch sweatbands, and I only ever cut one wrist because I didn't trust myself to put a blade in my left hand.

I eventually got found out because I had a ridiculously huge row with my step-dad and got super upset and started cutting. It was a little deeper than normal because I wasn't really in control, so I was in the bathroom for a long time. My mum barged in because she was worried about me, and I hid the blade behind my back and backed into a corner, but she tried to take whatever was in my hands and ended up cutting her finger. She then had a freak out, I ran into my room and covered my wrists, and she basically got really angry at me and called her mum asking for advice 'cause she thought I was some freak or something, idk. I never showed her my wrists, but she kinda put 2 and 2 together. She also told my uncle about it because his wife used to self harm for years, her arms are covered in scars. They started inviting me over more, to get me out of my home environment and stuff.

I stopped after that. It was hard, though. My mum took every sharp object she could find away from me, but I started using my nails instead, or pulling my hair. I eventually stopped. Now I self harm very rarely, only when I'm in a really bad place, but I never cut.

Uh, yeah. I have two very tiny scars on my wrist from the last time I cut. I still wear bracelets on that wrist. It's never been spoken about by my family or anyone else who knows it happened since the time it was found out.

I did for a short while but my mum found out before it got too bad. She was angry but pretty calm, she sat me down and talked to me about it, found out why and after about a month of me not hurting myself she didn't bring it up again.
Depending on how accepting your parents are, I suggest actually telling them, making sure they understand how bad you're feeling about stuff. They should help you through things. :]

I used to do it on my leg but where pants would cover it up, and on my arm where I knew I could cover it. My wrist to, and I would just take a shoe lace and use it as a bracelet to cover it up. My friend found out and told my mom, but during that time, me and my friend where arguing a lot so I just told my mom she was lying to get me in trouble. My mom believed me. After all, I put up a front everyday. For ever ounce of depressed I feel, I smile and joke around like nothings wrong even more. Because of that, nobody would veer suspect me of cutting myself. If anything, I think I would be the last person anyone would think of when it comes to something like that.

Needless to say, me and my friend don't talk anymore, but it was leading to this point sooner or later anyways. I don't cut anymore, but my emotions are still out of whack.

I never cut my wrists before. I've only cut my upper thigh so no one would see it. Its still a struggle for me. I haven't done it since October. But at any point I can snap. But I am trying to stop and am rather proud I've over come urges I have had since then.

No one ever found out about my cutting before. I've only told 2 of my friends but I've never told my parents or family. I would be afraid if they found out, not because they'd be mad or anything but because they'd probably want to take me to go see a councilor or put me on meds.

I used to cut my wrist, sometimes my leg. I'd wear sweaters all the time to cover it up, but if I had gone a while without cutting and there weren't any new ones on my arm, I wouldn't bother covering it. I'd make sure my wrist wasn't exposed so people could see, but I hate long sleeves and I live in Texas, you can only wear a sweater for so long without being suspicious.

My parents found out after I had been doing it for about a year. My mom was on the computer, I was standing behind her looking over her shoulder, resting my arm in a way that completely exposed the cuts on my arm. I had honestly forgotten about them until my father asked me what happened to my arm because there was a fresh cut which was kinda deep, along with numerous scars.

Obviously I tried lying and saying the cat did it, but my parents knew exactly what it was. My mom grabbed me by the arm and practically dragged me to the garage to talk. I didn't feel like talking about what was bothering me and she got super frustrated with me because I wasn't talking to her and she wanted to help. She ended up slapping me out if frustration, then we went up to my parents room where my mom disinfected the cut and she and my father were trying to talk to me. I just closed up and started crying at this point.

Eventually my mom and I went to my room, my mom was crying also and she wouldn't leave me room for the longest time because she was afraid I'd continue hurting myself. After that night, if I spent too long in the bathroom with the sink running, my mom would walk in and check on me to make sure I hadn't done it again. My father never mentioned it again. My mom would check my arm a few times to make sure there weren't any new scars/cuts. After awhile she stopped.

My father never brings it up, but occasionally my mother will. She will say something along the lines of "I'm always here for you to talk to so you don't ever get to that place again."

So yeah. My sisters had found out also, but they never said/did anything. A few friends knew, again they never did anything. A lot of them had cut themselves also. I never bring the subject up with anyone because I'm embarrassed about it. I wish I never did it and now I have big ugly scars on my arm that I see every day.

My coworker had actually seen my scars. He was running his fingers on them and asked what had happened. I don't think he realized what they were because a few have faded quite a bit. I simply told him "that happened a long time ago" and I changed the subject.

i used to cut on regular basis, now i only cut sometimes. i had successfully hidden tons of scars all over with the usual tricks and most of them faded since they weren't deep.

once i cut suicide in big letters all across my arm and a huge smiley on the other though. and it was very hard to keep a sweater on because it was very hot. i don't have longsleeve shirts cuz i hate warmth, which is what led to the discovery. my mother and father freaked. my mother, who usually talks a TON was speechless and was just looking at me with big, wide eyes as if i were a freak or out of my mind or a helpless, pityful little thing.

my father, who usually doesn't talk much and keeps things short and doesn't talk about feelings, almost cried and talked with me for a long time. he didn't seem to understand why i cut, even though he had cut himself as a teen.

they threatened to take me to the hospital, which they said would send me to a clinic for crazy people (*rolls eyes*) if i don't talk to them or agree to go to a therapist. i kept my mouth shut but had to go to a therapist. i never really had to talk about cutting with him though cuz i managed to convince everyone that i had quit cutting, that it had only been a phase.

i don't hide the scars as much anymore and my parents have seen them. they don't make as much stress about it now, cuz i ignore it. and if anyone else has seen the scars, they keep their mouths shut.
i don't even go to the therapist anymore and I was only there for a few weeks..

before i thought if anyone found out about me cutting, my whole life would change, but nothing has changed.

Generally the worst thing about people finding out about someone's cutting is misunderstanding, or unwanted means of trying to help. People often times assume that because someone cuts they're suicidal, which obviously isn't factual (at least not in ALL instances). They also may not know what to do, but (especially family members like parents) will probably want to help in whatever way they can, which could mean sending you to a counselor or something that you just don't feel ready for that the time.

I don't really want to go into detail about how to hide this from loved ones, but I will say that it's important that you DO find help when you feel ready to do so, and surely before you let things too bad. This doesn't have to mean spilling the beans to your parents and going to a counselor (though it could), but just make sure you have some means of support; both to help you try to find another way to deal with the problems causing you to cut, and to help you quit cutting when you've gotten to that point.

(Note: I'm not trying to say that someone should just continue with cutting forever or anything like that. As an addict, I know that overcoming something that has become a habit, addiction, or means of comfort is always incredibly hard, and nearly impossible when it's something you're being forced to do, versus a decision you've come to on your own will with the strength and ambition within you to overcome the problem.)

When I was cutting, I went to a lot of lengths to stop people from finding out, but none of it was very suspect since back then, I was fully immersed in the whole "dark" phase of being a teenager. I was always wearing long sleeves...I don't think I even wore t-shirts in the summer because of how many cuts I had. There were a couple of times people almost found out, but they never did; I'm rather adept at lying about my feelings, even if I'm crummy about lying about anything else. The only person who ever knew was my friend, and she never said a word to anybody else.

The only time anyone found out was when my Dad went through my bedroom trying to find something my little brother thought I'd taken from him. He found one razor, and then two...then five and I think at the end of the whole ransacking my room, he found something like twenty five razors or something like that. He figured it out and told me under no uncertain circumstances that if he ever found out I was cutting again, he'd take me to the psych ward.

...That didn't stop me though. I kept doing it for another two years after that; I was just better at hiding the razors. I've since talked to him about it and explained everything, but it's still hard overcoming all of it and to this day, I still have a razor or two hidden in my bedroom.

My mom. First time she saw it, she was panicking and crying and breaking down. Second time, she was angry at me and I attempted to run away, but I ended up walking back home.

I've cut for around five years now and for the longest time, no one ever really found out about all of the cutting but recently, my mother and her husband have found out about the cutting. They found out the same day I attempted suicide. My parents managed to intervene in my attempt and got me to come home to talk to them. In the note I left them, I admitted to the years of cutting. My stepdad was the one who confronted me about a lot of things that day, I don't think my mother really knew what to say to me. Eventually, he started asking me about the cutting. He asked me why I was hurting myself and later asked me to show him the cuts. I have a tendency to cut only on my lower legs, I always wear pants no matter what so hiding them all these years wasn't a problem. I never cut too deep so the scars tend to fade within a few months usually. I agreed to show him and after I showed him, he called my mother into the room and convinced me to show her the cuts. I don't think I'll ever forget the looks on their faces when they saw all of it.

My mother hugged me when she saw the cuts before walking out of the room to call her friend. She later had me speak to her friend who convinced me to go to the E.R and I later was put in a psych hospital for a few days, but that was mainly because of the suicide attempt and not solely because of the cutting. Neither of my parents had much to say on the cutting, but I think they were both pretty numb at that point. Everything I had been hiding for years came out in my suicide note and my parents found out a lot they had never known that day. After I showed both of my parents the cuts, my stepdad asked me to give him the razors. I hesitated a bit but I agreed to give him the razors. I kept four of them but gave the other six to him, neither of them know I kept some of the razors. I feel kind of bad for keeping some and I don't really know why I kept some, but I just needed to. My stepdad showed the razors to my mother who took them downstairs into the laundry room. I don't really know what she did with them after that because when she came back up again, she didn't have them anymore.

I've promised my parents that I'll work to stop cutting myself and I really am doing my best to pull myself away from that and not go back to it. It's hard to keep myself away from it but I know I need to do it for them. It hurt them so much to see what I was doing to myself, I don't want to keep hurting them like this. I want to stop for them and I will do my best to stop for them. Since they found out, my stepdad has asked me every now and again how I'm feeling and if I want to hurt myself in anyway. I've admitted to him a few times when I have, and he usually will sit down and play a game with me for a while to help calm me down. He's been really understanding about this whole thing, though my mother hasn't spoken of the cutting since that night. I just think she doesn't really know how to address it or what to say about it.

When I was younger, I was very much addicted to cutting. No one else could really understand. But it got to the point where I would cut.. a lot.. each day. And by that point you need to hide it. Not that I recommend hiding it, talking is a wonderful thing. but yea, there are times when you need to keep certain things undisclosed. I would cut on my thighs because I never showed my thighs as much as my inner arms. And having people not ask questions about the cuts was so much easier. But know this.. The further you go to have people not know about something you feel ashamed about may lead to addiction or serious self-worth issues. You do not want the addiction.

Yes. I had cut one night and I went to school the next day with long-sleeves on. One of my friends saw the marks and snitched on me. I was sent to CARES and they called my mom, who called my dad. They made this big deal over how if I felt like I was going to cut, I needed to talk to them. They were caring at first, but as I continued to do it, they grew angrier.

The day after my 15th birthday my whole family did due to a mishap with my mother and she naturally blabbed it to everyone else. None of them took it very well at all, but they didn't exactly do anything to stop me from doing it.

I'm a bit late with this but I started cutting when I was 13 and my parents found out pretty quickly because they saw plasters on wrists when my sleeves moved up (I was stupid and cut my wrists) so I was in counselling for two and a half years, they thought I was getting better but I kept cutting all throughout the time except for three months with my second counsellor because she actually cared and tried to help.
Last year I was clean for 6 months until August when I started really badly again and pretty much since then I've been cutting at least twice a week but I'm going back into counselling with a psychiatric test done first (I've never had one done).
I have scars and/or open/healing cuts on both wrists, upper left arm, stomach, hips, sides, both thighs and my left lower leg. They're hidden by long sleeves and skinny jeans. If I wear a dress it covers any new wounds and I put foundation over my scars or wear tights.

I've cut for three years on my wrist, upper arm, hip, anywhere... One day I broke down and told my mom. She looked me dead in the eye and said, "You're lying, prove it." I showed her scars, burn marks, scratchs. Everything and she denied it. She walked away as if it was nothing. Weeks later this boy i'd just started talking to saw them.... He showed me his arms... Covered in millions of scars... I cried... He held me there... We dated for a while... just broke up a few weeks ago but he's still there for me. Right now I'm three weeks clean of cutting. Two days clean of taking pain killers. Mom still doesn't care but he does.

About a year ago I was going through a hard time, I had just stopped seeing my councler, and my family doesn't understand me, so I started to cut my thys, because they are the part of my body I don't like at all and I knew I could keep it hidden. Well I was staying at my friends house and we were doing the whole watching a movie and laughing and eating junk food and whatnot, and she slapped my thy and it hurt like a bitch! Well she noticed me winch and told me that if I didn't show her my thy she was going to call my parentsso I showed her and she helpped me through a lot of my problems.

I cut back in junior high but it was never the usual wrist. I always pulled the scissors over my arm and lied to anyone that is was cat scratches because I honestly did always have those all over my arms. Finally one girl that I was really good friends with found out and she begged be to stop. I used the rubber band method where I'd snap, which yes caused welps on my arm but it was never the same kind of harm that the scissors did.

My senior year of high school though I began using my long nails to my advantage again when I got stressed and dug them into my arm. My boyfriend at the time finally found out almost a year later and stopped me (for the most part), I haven't done that for a little over two month (since I found out my husband was cheating on me) and am finally able to let my nails grow out again because for once in the last six years I feel safe around my own self. I have told three other people about my struggles with cutting and nail marks and they all have told me that they are so glad it is a thing of the past and that I am too beautiful of a girl to be doing things like that to myself.

It is that support from my friends that has stopped me and I honestly believe that I will be able to stay away from it for the rest of my life. I know I will always have the scars from my nails on my arm and the one long cut scar across my arm, but it is who I am and it tells my past. I have been a huge supporter of TWLOHA just because of my struggles in the past and I am glad to have the support of friends to keep me from doing so again.

Yes.
I've cut myself since I was twelve. (IKR, that's young). I just had problems keeping up with social norms. I wore revealing clothing that I hated--and even lost my virginity at 13 to try to "fit in."

Stuff like this was all in my diary. I put my knife (to cut myself with) and diary in a box under my bed, and at a sleepover with my two friends, well--one of them found it.

I had walked out of the room, and I come back and I see the box, the knife, and my friend reading my diary.

For a second I though they'd hate me, but they talked to me about it. They were very wise considering she was only 13 at the time, and she's almost 15 now (she's a little older than I am).

She didn't tell my parents about any of it. I was grateful. She knew I wore revealing clothing, but she didn't think I wore it because I wanted to fit in. She said that she thought so many different things about me--and she thinks none of them now.

Whenever I try to take that knife out, I think of her. I have been cutting myself recently, but luckily now I only wear long sleeve black shirts.

My parents still don't know. But I might tell them when I'm an adult--I honestly am not sure.

I've talked to certain users on here that have helped me (treat02, chicle). I really appreciate their help.

I wish I could stop, but I hadn't done it for six months until today.