When I was a teenager I struggled with self harm for a really long time. From about 15-17. My blade of choice was that of a pencil sharpener. Normally they're always around, and I'm a bit of an artist, so I was almost always guaranteed to have 2 at the same time. There is only one screw holding them in place, they are small, and the cuts they make are very thin. So much so that I only ever scarred once. I would cut pretty shallow. Occasionally I cut on my wrists. l wore exactally 16 braclets to hide them. I even have selfies from this time period were you can see the bracelets. Other times I would cut on my upper arms near my shoulders. It was easy to cut, in a less dangerous spot, and easier to hide. I made my last cut at 17, along my waistline.

As a 23 year old mother of two, I have relapsed on self harm. In two sessions, of about 4/6 cuts a piece on my upper outer thighs, with some broken glass. Although we've had sex since, my fiance hasn't said anything. Either he hasn't noticed, or isn't going to say anything. Currently, I'm not sure which is worse.

I have told my mother in law that the thoughts are back. But I haven't told her of the relapses. I am terrified of disappointing her. I feel as though she thinks my willpower is stronger than it is. Yesterday I gave her my pocket knife. I hope it's the right step. But the broken glass is still there.

See, sometimes I don't want to hide it. Because how am I really in recovery, if I'm hiding it? But technically she hasn't asked, so my brain keeps telling me I'm not actually lying about it.

And part of me has no idea how she would even react. Would I think it over the top? Or that she doesn't even care? Because I'm not suicidal. I never have been. I only cut to cut.

And I don't know how explain to anyone who hasn't been through it that I crave sharp on skin without sounding like a complete psychopath. But I do. Sharp on skin. The sore rub against clothing. The hot water sting in the shower. How do you fall in love with the pain of how a certain type of injury heals? I did. And though I feel shame for the weakness in me their presence portrays, I miss them when they are gone. It's only cuts for me though. I hate the pain of burns. So I know I am not desperate just to injure myself. But a little cut. What would it hurt?

And my brain says, it's not that serious. They are in a good place. Easy to cut, easy to hide, easy to deal with while it heals. Just a few. Thin and shallow. Won't even scar. It's not that serious. But I'm hiding them. So isn't it?

It's been almost 2 weeks since the first set. Over my birthday weekend. My first relapse. 1 week since the 2nd set. The first set is mostly healed. I feel like being honest will generate a lot of unwanted, and I feel, necessary attention. But if my brain rationalizes this, what else does it get wrong?

I thought this was a childish mechanism I would grow out of. I idolized those recovery stories of previous self harmers with their loves and their babies and everything gets better.

But I, an engaged, 23 year old mother of 2 still crave sharp on skin. I have relapsed for the first time in 6 years. Twice in a week. Do I tell someone? How am I in recovery of I don't? I want help. I'm willing. But how do I go to someone close? How do I say something so personal? How could anyone possibly understand?