THE BUTTERFLY PROJECT

submit here!   THE RULES:
1. when you feel like you want to cut, take a marker or pen and draw a butterfly wherever the self-harm occurs.
2. name the butterfly after a loved one, or someone that really wants you to get better.
3. NO scrubbing the butterfly off.
4. if you cut before the butterfly is gone, it dies. if you don't cut, it lives.
5. another person may draw them on you. these butterflies are extra special. take good care of them.
6. even if you don’t cut, feel free to draw a butterfly anyways, to show your support.

this is an anoymously-run blog for you. i want to hear your stories. i want to see pictures of your butterflies. please don't be ashamed to share anything. we are all human, and i'm only here to serve.

all the posts on this blog are submissions from followers who have enough courage to share their lives and their stories with you. i ask that this remain a judgement-free zone. thank you all very much. stay strong.

with hope, momma butterfly })i({
Hey everyone! This is my first butterfly. As of last night, I’m quitting self-harm for good. I’ve thrown out every last blade, erased my sad or angry diary entries and wrote inspirational poetry and quotes in its place, and come clean to all of my friends. Thank you, Butterfly Project, for helping motivate me!

Hey everyone! This is my first butterfly. As of last night, I’m quitting self-harm for good. I’ve thrown out every last blade, erased my sad or angry diary entries and wrote inspirational poetry and quotes in its place, and come clean to all of my friends. Thank you, Butterfly Project, for helping motivate me!

Hello, my name is Julia and I’m 16 years old.

A few years ago, I was, due to bullying, depressed and suicidal as well. I often thought about harming myself, but I could never bring myself to actually do it. I often thought about killing myself as well, but as you can see, I didn’t.

Back then I thought I’m a coward, and that I only didn’t do it out of fear, but I’ve come to the realisation that it was because even though I didn’t admit it to myself back then, it was because I love(d) myself.

I hope you will come to love yourself one day as well. Stay strong!

#submission 

Hey guys, 
I’ve been reading through the posts on here and thought I could provide a bit of hope.
     Almost two years ago now I started self-harming because I was rather depressed and under a lot of stress. It got to be a big part of my life, and a dangerous addiction- so much that I was doing it sometimes 40 times a day. I told the people that were closest to me what was going on, and I got the support of a couple Young Adults (Mentors, I like to call them) and all these people kept me accountable. They checked up on me, asked me if I was okay, if I had self-harmed lately. and if I haaddd, they didn’t mad. They asked for reasoning, and tried to be supportive of not doing it again. After months of this I stopped. Not like other times I had “stopped”, but for real. It takes work, love, and time. quitting does. Just like any addiction. But it is more than worth it. You will be so proud of yourself and feel so much stronger.  I promise <3
     SO! Here’s to quitting. I know you all can do it. And i believe in you. <3<3
-from someone who knows

#butterfly project  #submission 
Over a year<3

Hey guys, 
I’ve been reading through the posts on here and thought I could provide a bit of hope.
     Almost two years ago now I started self-harming because I was rather depressed and under a lot of stress. It got to be a big part of my life, and a dangerous addiction- so much that I was doing it sometimes 40 times a day. I told the people that were closest to me what was going on, and I got the support of a couple Young Adults (Mentors, I like to call them) and all these people kept me accountable. They checked up on me, asked me if I was okay, if I had self-harmed lately. and if I haaddd, they didn’t mad. They asked for reasoning, and tried to be supportive of not doing it again. After months of this I stopped. Not like other times I had “stopped”, but for real. It takes work, love, and time. quitting does. Just like any addiction. But it is more than worth it. You will be so proud of yourself and feel so much stronger. 

#butterfly project  #submission 

Hey everyone so this is my story. My names Dalton Im 21 and ive been struggling with self harm ever since i was 15 I have always had very bad depression that made life kinda hard alot. Recently things have been getting progessively worse for me. I have gotten to a point where I had just given up on everything I had no hope left in me I was hurting myself every night and couldnt stop. I thought about ending my life. so in one last struggle for some sort of hope i reached out to a crisis line and they told me about this butterfly project. So im now starting this on my road to get better, I drew my first butterfly tonight and named it after my mother

Today ( 10th of September, 2014) is the one year death anniversary of one of my best friends. I promised never to cry for him. So I&#8217;ll smile instead.. I hope wherever he is, he&#8217;s finally smiling with me.
Rest in Peace, Mattie.

-The one who you said cared the most.

Today ( 10th of September, 2014) is the one year death anniversary of one of my best friends. I promised never to cry for him. So I’ll smile instead.. I hope wherever he is, he’s finally smiling with me.

Rest in Peace, Mattie.

-The one who you said cared the most.

#submission  #butterfly project 

I didn’t come from the best childhood. My moms an alcoholic, and she smokes, My dad he just smokes. Now my entire life I have been confined to the house. My life I have wanted to run away but never had the guts to. Now my life wasn’t easy I have ADHD and Asthma so I was a problem from the start. I have always been called fat by my grandmother who ways more than me. I started harming in the 8th grade and I was anorexic by the 6th grade. 7th grade I was a shadow. 9th grade I was considered “emo” because I wore black because I had scars because of the music I liked. My life was filled with depression and no one to get me tested for it because they are all cheap stakes. And I was forced by a friend to do the project and I did this project through 9th and I am not allowed this year or else I will get yelled at. I have been 2 months clean and honestly this is the longest I have been clean in a long time.

#submission  #butterfly project 
I started cutting because my dad tried to kill himself. Twice in three years, and I was the one calling 911 each time while my mom was saying me not to. The second time he tried (september 2014), he had to go to the hospital (he had taken a lot of medecine mix up with alcohol). When he came back, the first thing he said to me was &#8220;I hope one day you&#8217;ll hit a vein and you&#8217;ll die.&#8221; I suppose that you can understand why the cutting only got worse. My mother had (and still have) no idea of what I was doing. She was here, but she really coudn&#8217;t help me because she didn&#8217;t understand how bad I really was.
My parents fought a lot. Most of the time because of me. I also used to have to panic attacks because of it. They would fight downstairs, and I was alone in my room upstairs, trying my hardest to keep breathing. I would cry myself to sleep every night, my grade at school were awful (I always had been a good student). I didn&#8217;t really talk to my friends  anymore, instead putting my headphones on and making my best to not cry in front of them. I think I didn&#8217;t go out of my house in 6 monthes. I was so afraid my dad would try to hurt himself again that I couldn&#8217;t bring myself to go outside. My dad got so tired of me that he almost made me go to a &#8220;lunatic&#8221; hospital.
Eventually, my dad decided that I had to go see a &#8220;doctor&#8221;. That the word he used to say therapist. Like he was ashamed that I needed help. Anyway, Emilie (my therapist) really helped me. She made me realise that cut, bruises and hitting your arm on the corner of your desk wasn&#8217;t really the best way to cop.
I&#8217;m clean since 4 monthes but it isn&#8217;t simple. Self harm isn&#8217;t something you forget. You see your arm and the scars everyday, and when something doesn&#8217;t go my way, the idea of the blade still cross your mind. Now, I learned to say no, but it was hard.

Just because the self-harming stop, doesn&#8217;t mean your life does.

I started cutting because my dad tried to kill himself. Twice in three years, and I was the one calling 911 each time while my mom was saying me not to. The second time he tried (september 2014), he had to go to the hospital (he had taken a lot of medecine mix up with alcohol). When he came back, the first thing he said to me was “I hope one day you’ll hit a vein and you’ll die.” I suppose that you can understand why the cutting only got worse. My mother had (and still have) no idea of what I was doing. She was here, but she really coudn’t help me because she didn’t understand how bad I really was.

My parents fought a lot. Most of the time because of me. I also used to have to panic attacks because of it. They would fight downstairs, and I was alone in my room upstairs, trying my hardest to keep breathing. I would cry myself to sleep every night, my grade at school were awful (I always had been a good student). I didn’t really talk to my friends  anymore, instead putting my headphones on and making my best to not cry in front of them. I think I didn’t go out of my house in 6 monthes. I was so afraid my dad would try to hurt himself again that I couldn’t bring myself to go outside. My dad got so tired of me that he almost made me go to a “lunatic” hospital.

Eventually, my dad decided that I had to go see a “doctor”. That the word he used to say therapist. Like he was ashamed that I needed help. Anyway, Emilie (my therapist) really helped me. She made me realise that cut, bruises and hitting your arm on the corner of your desk wasn’t really the best way to cop.

I’m clean since 4 monthes but it isn’t simple. Self harm isn’t something you forget. You see your arm and the scars everyday, and when something doesn’t go my way, the idea of the blade still cross your mind. Now, I learned to say no, but it was hard.

Just because the self-harming stop, doesn’t mean your life does.

#submission  #butterfly project 
My story

So, just over a year ago I met a guy who changed my life. I love him. But at the same time, I’m trying so hard to be me and I’m this deil person and I don’t know who I am anymore. He knows everything about me and like can get my family’s numbers and if I hurt him he is going to ruin my whole life and I don’t know what to do. He said I’m the reason he isn’t sleeping and tonight he is now keeping me up all night, I mean :( I don’t mean to. I have thoughts about cutting again and this time even sucicide.
I did end up cutting as I wrote this a few days ago
And he isn’t happy now so sadly I have to keep it hidden now from my mom.
I am very lonely and I have no one to talk to so I have music and my bed, where I cry at night.
Thank you for listening to my story (or venting)

#submission 

princessblogonoke:

Anxiety & Helping Someone Cope. 
I didn’t want to make it overwhelming or too long remember, so I kept it to the main points that benefit me greatly when I’m experiencing an attack.
40 million of Americans alone suffer with anxiety; it’s a horrid feeling when you know someone just wants to help you but you cannot even construct a simple sentence at the time, so please share this in hope that it benefits even just 1 person. Muchos love. 

(via dinobunnie)

Hi, my name is Dalia and I’m 20 years old. I have been self harming for about 5 years. During those 5 years I’ve only ever stopped a couple times for very brief moments. I’ve been clean for about a month most two I can’t help but feel like I want to. I don’t have much understanding friends. I don’t know what to do. Any suggestions on quieting this loud demand? Thank you in advance

#submission 

My name is Chandra I am 15 and I and decided to share my story. My childhood was relatively happy. Then at age 0 my family moved and everything went down hill from there. I found out that my mother not only smokes but is an alcoholic. Now my father also smokes. My world has changed and I was only in 5th grade and I was I child whose family neglected her. then my 6th grade year I became anorexic and to this day I still battle with it. Then I finally entered middle school then I found out what being bullied felt like. Then at home my older sister she abused me treated me like I was her personal slave. 8th grade came and I was done I took up scratching myself when I felt down I didn’t eat ever. 9th grade was worse I finally grabbed a blade and made several cuts on my thighs I carved LIVE into my knee. I carved my ex bfs name into my wrist. I also wanted to die. Now My 10th grade year the final chapter I am the new kid the one who people will end up making fun of at some point. Thanks for listening

#submission  #butterfly project 
Well, I’m happy because it’s been months I don’t cut, and seeing my scars fading away makes really happy.
For many years I always thought that I could send my sadness away by hurting myself. Even when I didn’t cut myself, I always tried to find a way to punish myself for the things I did. I hated myself so much that I really thought about disappearing. I’m selfish and a bad daughter. I couldn&#8217;t build a friendship or keep it. I always scared people away. I’m not a beautiful person at all. People hurt me so much that I ended up hurting them too. And everyone who entered into my life ended up being hurt by me. I ruined everything I touched. Someone once told me that I’m not an human being. And I guess she was right, maybe I’m not human, maybe I’m just a ghost who can be seen.
But I don’t want that, I don’t want to be a ghost. I want to live. I don’t want to be forgotten. I want people to remember me and smile while doing it. I want to do something for the world and for myself too. I want have friends, go to places I never been before, I want make my mother feel proud of me and mostly I want feel proud of myself.
I already drew 6 butterflies and I found friends who really help a lot. They don’t know about me, but they always try to cheer me up when I’m down. I have changed a lot on these few months. I smile more, and I try to go out more, I even went to a night club and kissed a girl =)). I met new people and discovered new things to do. I started to make bracelets to my friends and save money to go to Paris with my friends (we are planning going there after college)
But I’m still sad. And sometimes I get so sad that my all body hurts. And when I feel this way I cry, I try to put all out and then I read a book or watch funny vines, but I don’t think about hurting myself anymore.
And maybe if one day i disappear for real, probably no one will miss me, but I will miss so many things. Because now when I look back at my life, I see that there were times I had happy moments…and I will miss those moments so much. Even the people who entered in my life and then left me without a single word, I will miss them, a lot, because they brought me so many joy and happiness. I will miss the sunrise I see every morning through my room window. I will miss my cats, and my mother and her warm hug, that I hope feel it again.
stay strong :*
[sorry my bad English :)]

Well, I’m happy because it’s been months I don’t cut, and seeing my scars fading away makes really happy.

For many years I always thought that I could send my sadness away by hurting myself. Even when I didn’t cut myself, I always tried to find a way to punish myself for the things I did. I hated myself so much that I really thought about disappearing. I’m selfish and a bad daughter. I couldn’t build a friendship or keep it. I always scared people away. I’m not a beautiful person at all. People hurt me so much that I ended up hurting them too. And everyone who entered into my life ended up being hurt by me. I ruined everything I touched. Someone once told me that I’m not an human being. And I guess she was right, maybe I’m not human, maybe I’m just a ghost who can be seen.

But I don’t want that, I don’t want to be a ghost. I want to live. I don’t want to be forgotten. I want people to remember me and smile while doing it. I want to do something for the world and for myself too. I want have friends, go to places I never been before, I want make my mother feel proud of me and mostly I want feel proud of myself.

I already drew 6 butterflies and I found friends who really help a lot. They don’t know about me, but they always try to cheer me up when I’m down. I have changed a lot on these few months. I smile more, and I try to go out more, I even went to a night club and kissed a girl =)). I met new people and discovered new things to do. I started to make bracelets to my friends and save money to go to Paris with my friends (we are planning going there after college)

But I’m still sad. And sometimes I get so sad that my all body hurts. And when I feel this way I cry, I try to put all out and then I read a book or watch funny vines, but I don’t think about hurting myself anymore.

And maybe if one day i disappear for real, probably no one will miss me, but I will miss so many things. Because now when I look back at my life, I see that there were times I had happy moments…and I will miss those moments so much. Even the people who entered in my life and then left me without a single word, I will miss them, a lot, because they brought me so many joy and happiness. I will miss the sunrise I see every morning through my room window. I will miss my cats, and my mother and her warm hug, that I hope feel it again.

stay strong :*

[sorry my bad English :)]

#submission  #butterfly project 

Hi. I’m Shawna. This is my story.

When I was 10, my mom had asked my brother and I what we would think if we moved back to where she grew up, which was four hours away. My parents had gotten a divorce three and a half years ago, when I was seven. Of course, this was the first time that it had been brought up in our family of three that now lived in a nice little town house on top of the hill. This was in early June. Before I knew it, it was August, and we were packing up all of our things and loading them into a brightly colored yellow Penske truck parked outside of our little blue house with the broken porch swing. I remember getting into my mother’s truck and waving goodbye for the last time to my small pink room (I used to love the color, don’t judge.) I remember walking up out stairs, sitting on the roof for the final time, and remembering everything that I would never forget, always remember. I was numb for most of the drive to our new house that my mother’s parents had bought. It was a nice, split level, 4 bed, 2 bath house with a double garage and three acres. When we arrived, my grandfather had hired a few men to help us move out furniture and larger items into the new home. It had only been a week or so when school started here at mom’s hometown. I was going into fifth grade. Keep in mind, my old school was only a 1A and my current school, this very same one, is a 4, almost 5A. I had been one of the most well-known and most popular kids at my school, everybody seemed to like me well enough, and I still liked myself. Then, I was pulled from there and drug to a new school where I didn’t know the slightest soul. There were about 23 kids or so in my fifth grade homeroom, about 170 in the whole grade. I had managed to get the meanest and most horrid teacher. Wonderful. I didn’t really want to talk anyone and no one really seemed interested in me either, so it all worked out. Then this boy started talking to me, his name was Ahren. He’s been a life-saver, literally. But, he and I would always talk to each other and I had been cutting for about three months by now, and finally, just after we got back from Christmas break, I had shown him my scars. My arms were laced with them, but most now are faded as I have moved to my left thigh for the most part. He asked me what had happened, and I hesitated to tell him the truth and really if he wanted to know. So, I knew I’d feel even worse if I lied to the poor kid about it. So I told him the truth. All of it. He made me promise to never do this to myself again, and, I told him I wouldn’t, knowing that I had lied to him in the end. It was just another empty, hollow, fake promise that I couldn’t keep to anyone. As the year finished up, it just kinda blurred by, I got good grades and everything, wasn’t bullied or anything either. Sixth grade was also the same way, then on May 16, 2013, there was one girl that had apparently found out that I cut, and she made fun of me and bullied me for it. So I punched her. In the face. Got my little smartass into ISS for the last day of school. That was fun, met a kid called Max. School ended and summer began. Then on the twenty third, I was wearing jeans to cover my scars, and a short sleeved shirt. I was at the park, with one of my few friends, and Ahren had seen me there and asked if he could talk to me for a minute. I shrugged and told him sure, he pulled me to the side and asked me out. So that happened. I’ve been with him ever since, he’s been with me through everything, I even made a few more friends in seventh grade, and eventually told my story to a few of them as well. One of them told me that she cut too. She told me about the butterfly project. I looked it up and read the rules and a bunch of other’s stories who also told about their cutting and how the butterfly project has helped them. I have been doing it for months now, every time a butterfly flies away, I draw a new one. Or two. Or several. How many have died you ask? Only 2. And now, I’ve been 44 days clean. September fifth will be my fiftieth day clean. And then October 26th? Yeah, that’s gonna be one hundred. And I’m gonna make it to one hundred. I will. I’ve told another few friends that have cut about the butterfly project, and they say it’s a distraction from the constant urge to cut, they roll up the long loose sleeves to tear into that precious arm once again, but see the butterfly and the name instead of the long, white scars. It’s really been a great thing for me. Thank you for taking the time out of your day and reading my story to you all about how the butterfly project has helped me. Thank you so much to whoever invented the Butterfly project as well, you’ve saved so many people from not only self-harm and cutting again, but death itself. Me included. I’m thirteen years old now. It’s been officially one night since I had that blade in my hand once again, but my most recent butterfly had been drawn last night as well. July 16th 2014 is my last cut date. And I plan it to be my one, two, 10 plus years clean. Thanks.

#submission  #butterfly project