Hi. I would like to tell you now that I am fourteen. I know that I am technically not qualified to be replying to this, but I was a self harmer. My father died when I was eight, my mum got cancer at the same time, and though she recovered she married another man later that year. I like my stepfather to begin with, but after the marriage he began to get more demanding, saying that I needed responsibities and telling me off every time I made an accidental mistake. He was also very fond of saying "don't get in a huff" when I wasn't in one, something that only irritated me. When I was thirteen I was having a great time with a friend, and we were laughing, when my stepladder reminded me of something I needed to do. I said "oh yeah, I'd forgotten," and leapt up to get shoes on. Apparently this was me in a strop, because he told me I was in a huff. Later on he said he was getting fed up of me being in a huff all the time. I snapped, and told him I didn't get in a huff until he told me I was in one, at which point he grabbed my hair and tried to push me into a tree, then let me go. I picked up a stick to try to protect myself and he came up behind me. I backed away, telling him to stay away but he just grabbed the stick from me, pushed me to the ground and kicked me seven or eight times. My mother said we were leaving him, bit a couple of weeks later apparently everything was ok again, though I didn't even get an apology. I hated my mother then, too
It was around four months later that I started cutting myself. I knew it was wrong, but it made me hate myself more, and therefore do it more. I felt so much better afterwards, that sone times even now, I think back on it with something close to nostalgia.
I don't know how I stopped. U told my mother when my stepdad wasn't there. She was shocked, but agreed not to tell him when I reminded her of what he had said concerning self-harmer before. (ie, they just need a good slap...!)
She refused to talk to me about it in the morning, either. So I knew I was alone, but I had been for years, so it was nothing new. I had only two friends, both of which lived in another contract since we had moved to Spain. Neither of them were keeping on contact either, though I sent them letters quite often.
I just stopped, and I don't know how. Now, though things are better, I still miss it a little. I'm trying to explain how addictive it can be. I am sorry that this post wasn't very helpful. I think I started writing with something helpful on my mind, and have now forgotten it. Sorry.
All I know is, that all I really wanted was a proper friend who would listen to everything, my darkest secrets, and still like me, accept me. But my only friends refused to even write to me.
Sorry this didn't help, and I hope your daughter gets over it.
Xx
P.s, sorry if there are any spelling mistakes on this, I was typing on,my new phone. :)