I became a cutter about three years ago. It did not happen overnight. In fact, the idea actually crossed my mind several months before I started but I tried to forget that I had ever had the thought. But after being severely depressed for quite awhile, cutting seemed like a good way to deal with my life. At least it was better than suicide, right?
But once I decided to stop, that was a different story. I had no idea when I started that cutting was an addiction. Currently, I am four and a half weeks clean. It has not been an easy month and I do not expect it to get easy in the immediate future.
Right now, I still have a couple faint marks; remnants from a rough night four and a half weeks ago. They are barely visible, even in the right light and I know that by this summer, they will disappear completely. But for now, the marks stand as a reminder of the past self that I am eager to get away from as well as the future self that will no longer have to deal with life by cutting. My new future self does not have to worry about hiding the cuts!