It all started when I was 15 years old or there about.

My life was okay, until the 25th April 2002. I was with my Mum and Dad we were up at the brownie house in Kilernan, when her phone went. It was my Auntie; she had some new about my Uncles test. The results were he had cancer of the Pancreas. My Mum refused to tell me at first but I kept hassling her. When she told me I broke down and ran away. It took my parents about an hour to find me.

The next couple of days I was in a daze I couldn’t cope, I was going to lose my best friend, the guy who introduced me to singing, dancing, drama, music, football in fact everything I knew, he introduced me to. So I first of all turned to drink, but that didn’t work because I couldn’t get my hands on any, I stated smoking heavily to try and forget, that didn’t work either in the end I just ended up getting addicted. I thought I would never find anything to make me feel alive again, but I did. One day during home EC I accidentally cut my finger, and I felt this release wash over me. And that was it, every time I felt down or my parents we’re arguing and blaming me for their argument, I would cut myself.

During the time of my uncle’s illness, my father wasn’t working, so money was tight, my mum was getting made redundant from her job as a play leader, and everything that went wrong was my fault. I was getting picked on in school, by the people in my year; I was all alone with no one at all beside me, no one to stand up for me and no one to look out for me.

The day he died I can remember so well, it was exactly 7 weeks after he was diagnosed with cancer. I only got to see him once because my parents didn’t want me to go and see him in case I upset him. It was a Tuesday night I had just come home from helping with the brownies I was sitting down watching TV when the phone wrung. My mum answered it, it was my Auntie, all I heard was “oh my god no, right I’ll phone my Mum and get her to pick up the bairn” My mum came through to the sitting room and before she told me I already new, He was gone. I cried my eyes out I ran and I kept on running. I went to my spot in Conon and I pulled out my blade and I cut my arm, I t didn’t make me feel any better. I walked back to my house and my granny was waiting for me. I hide my arm so she couldn’t see the cut.

My Granny drove me to hers and was saying in the car, “maybe it would be better if he did go” and then it dawned on me she didn’t know. So I had to tell her, that her Brother was Dead…..I’ll never forget her face, it’s still haunt me to this day, in fact it’s the face I see just before I wake up from my re-occurring nightmare.

The next day I had a tri out for the school running team, everyone told me not to go, but I had to, I knew it was the one thing my uncle would have wanted me to do. So I went, and I ran the 100 meters the fastest I ever had in my school running career. I only ran that fast cause I thought I saw my uncle at the end of the track, and I ran to get him.

The day of the funeral, I have never forgotten. Because it was the day I died myself. The church was full, the churchyard was full, the church hall was full with people wanting to say goodbye to my uncle. The people that couldn’t get into the hall went straight to the graveyard. I don’t remember the funeral that well, I remember the committal more. As the put his body into the ground, I whispered “goodbye Uncle Billy, I love you” cause that’s the words I never got to say to him, ever. My Mum and Dad and My Auntie refused to let me go see him and say those words.

The days and years that followed I never really witnessed, until about my 5th year in Dingwall academy. When my life really took a turn for the worse. My life at home became really really bad. My dad didn’t want me there. And he was always arguing with my mum to the max. I was having a really hard time of it because I had to be strong for my mum after the death of my uncle cause she was being strong for everyone else bar herself and me…….no one was there for me to be strong for me, I had to do it alone. The only thing that helped me was cutting. (I was 15 when I started cutting and when I finally stopped cutting on regular bases I was almost 19 years old about 2 month before my 19th birthday I stopped cutting everyday, and reduced it to every couple of days.)

I had attempted suicide twice by then and failed. I tried again and again but I kept failing. I came to the conclusion that the earth didn’t want me, no one in my life wanted me, god didn’t want me because if he did he would have let me die, and the devil didn’t want me.

I crashed in to a state of despair. I drank everyday, I would cut everyday, I would smoke anything I could get my hands on. Just to escape the Hell I was living in.

I did everything that I possible could to try and live my life, but I never could. I just wanted to die but I couldn’t even do that right. So I just kept falling down into a pit of despair.

I would wear black all the time, I wouldn’t talk to anyone, I would walk around with my head held down. Until one day, one of my teachers had the courage to ask me what was wrong. I never told her at first, I just went to the music room and I started singing, the first time in a year, I started singing I sang wishing you were somehow here again from phantom of the opera. And I cried. I still never told the teacher what was wrong.

Then a play came to the academy. All about self harm and mental health disorders. I watched it till the part with self harm came on it, then I ran outta the hall crying, and that was it. The whole school knew that I was a “freak” as they called me. I had to go the therapy twice a week. I had to write down my feelings. But I never did.

It wasn’t until later on that year I finally admitted I needed help. I got the best help that people could give me but that wasn’t really enough.

6th year was my year. I kinda came outta my shell, though I was still self harming; I managed to hide all the cuts for my social. But no one really knew I existed that’s why I took over running the year book. So I tried and I tried to get people to notice who I was, but it never happened. In the end I gave up. I did their bloody yearbook and the day it was time to leave Dingwall academy I went out with all the ones in my year, but the never knew who I was and why I was there. I will never forget the people that made me feel like crap I will never forgive them either.

I went of to college and tried to start a new life, but no matter where I went the crap at home always affected me. I wanted to die. So I tried suicide again. I still have the mark from that last attempt around me neck.

I ran away from home 5 times that year and still I couldn’t stop self harming. It took all my strength to try and stop self harming. I wrote songs, I wrote poems I did everything in my power to stop self harming, and still to this day when things get rough I want to cut, I think only once I have given in to the voices and cut.

After that I still had problems at home my folks had taken in my ex boyfriend as a lodger and he was making my life hell, he still is to this day but I tend to ignore him now. I never thought I would get over the loss of my uncle, but that would be something I would learn in time.

My music had kept me going through all the stuff I had to go through, but in the end all I wanted to hear was my parents saying that they were proud of me. they have never said that to me. They never came to my Prize giving’s at school when I won; they never came to any of the plays I did at school or with the Dingwall Players. They never came to any of the concerts I did. But my uncle when he was alive he came to everything, he was the one that acted like my dad. And he was gone. So I punished myself for not being the perfect daughter by self harming. My life wasn’t worth living in my eyes because my parents didn’t love me.

I had managed to pull myself out of the life I was living by escaping through music. But Christmas last year really put me back down to where I had clawed my way out of. I wanted to die once more.

To tell the truth, the night after the complete stone roses played at the rock, I was so tired I just wanted to give up. I had everything ready to go once I got home, beside my bed I had enough pills to take to make me sick enough, enough alcohol to make it not hurt and my blade to cut where I needed to. I was all set to go, I never expected to be saved, in the way that I was. I was saved by my this wonderful person call James Dice aka The Diceman. He saved me and kept my head above the water, in time when i was drowning in a sea of depression.

This is my life, there is a lot more, drink and drugs involved in most of it, but I don’t remember what happened there I just know there is cause of the amount of time I ended up in hospital and things like that. I was dead in my heart and in my soul until I met The Diceman, The Diceman have breathed the life back in to me. And I am so thankful. I didn’t think that anyone could do that, I thought I was a lost cause, bound to die alone in a world where no body wanted her.

I still self harm to this day but a lot less than I used to thanks to The Diceman, I have picked myself up. I am now the manager of an unsigned Rock band and i am finally going back to college to persue my dram of becoming a singer.

If it wasnt for James i wouldnt be here today to tell my story. I only hope that others out there can do the hardest step any self harmer needs to do and ask for help. Its hard at first but in the end its worth it as you can finally see light at the end of the tunnel.

If anyone after reading this story wants to contact me for advice or help on how to stop then please do my email is LMG_Music@yahoo.co.uk. For helping save others helps save me.