I used to self harm like Gemma Collins, how dare anyone call it attention seeking?

Gemma’s exploration of both her childhood and adult self harm prompted me to examine my own motivations for hurting myself (Picture: Matt Monfredi/Channel 4)

I was 17 years old when an older boy I was dating told me that if I was ‘going to cut myself, at least do it properly’ before asking whether he could do it to me himself. 

I didn’t understand why someone who said they loved me would want to cause me further pain, and it’s a memory that came flashing back while watching the Channel 4 documentary Gemma Collins: Self Harm and Me. 

Unlike anything I’d ever seen on television, Gemma’s exploration of both her childhood and adult self harm prompted me to examine my own motivations for hurting myself.

Like Gemma, I began in my early teens, having gleaned the idea from Thirteen, an 18-rated film about two wayward teenage girls. 

I stacked bracelets and wristbands to try and hide the evidence. I still remember the agony as hundreds of tiny cuts burst as I stretched in PE class. 

If anyone did spot the marks, I’d always just say I’d ‘fallen over’. Clumsy me! 

I remember the devastation on my mum and dad’s faces when they came to visit me at university and found red-stained tissues amongst my clutter (Picture: Lowri Llewelyn)

I related to Gemma’s relationship with her mum, who simply didn’t know how to express the pain and helplessness she herself was feeling. A vivid memory is that of my mum walking in on me in a changing room and spotting the angry red marks all over my tummy. 

From then on, all sharp household objects were locked inside my dad’s briefcase. 

I still remember the shame of requesting a razor to shave my legs, or a knife to chop vegetables. 

As an adult, a diagnosis of borderline personality disorder, aged 20, hung like a millstone around my neck. Characterised by overwhelming emotions, impulsive behaviour and intense but unstable relationships, BPD – or Emotionally Unstable Personality Disorder – is a disorder of mood that affects how sufferers view themselves and interact with others.

According to Marsha Linehan, credited with developing Dialectical Behaviour Therapy: ‘People with BPD are like people with third degree burns over 90% of their bodies. Lacking emotional skin, they feel agony at the slightest touch or movement’.

I remember the devastation on Mum and Dad’s faces when they came to visit me at university and found red-stained tissues amongst my clutter. 

Even though I insisted it was nothing and I was fine, hysterical drunken phone calls would bring them back to my door, ready to bring me home for a few days to recuperate. 

It’s important to remember that not everyone self harms for the same reason. Gemma, for instance, hurt herself to cope with the stress of fame. 

I hurt myself throughout my twenties because I believed I was inherently evil and deserved to be punished. I was a bad apple, rotten to the core.

Self harm was never about killing myself but trying as hard as I could to stay alive (Lowri Llewelyn)

BPD is a stigmatised and controversial diagnosis and, feeling isolated, I’d look to the internet for community. However, I didn’t have to go far for comments like: ‘Don’t stick your d*ck in crazy’ or ‘Run and never look back’ about women with BPD.

Even mental health professionals shared their aversion to ‘borderlines’, claiming we are dangerous and manipulative and beyond help. I would torment myself by seeking out these comments to reinforce what I already believed – that I was unlovable.

I came to think of the marks across my body as a protective blanket; no matter how much the world hurt, it could never hurt me as much as I could hurt myself. Self harm was never about killing myself but trying as hard as I could to stay alive.

More: Mental health

If someone as bubbly and confident as Gemma can struggle with self harm, anyone can. Though the response to the documentary has been overwhelmingly positive, a small minority have taken it upon themselves to attack Gemma’s perceived ‘attention seeking’. 

This documentary is a step in the right direction and I hope by dispelling the shame around self harm, those with mental health issues can focus all their energies on the important process of getting better. 

The rhetoric around self harm needs to change. It is so much more complex than being simply ‘attention seeking’, with myriad motivations, all of which deserve our compassion – and if someone is crying out for attention, it’s really important we listen.

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing jess.austin@metro.co.uk. 

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