Understanding Self-Harm
Feeling Something Controllable
When people hear the word self-harm, they often imagine cutting. But self-harm is broader — it’s anything we do to manage unbearable feelings through the body.
For some it’s scratching, hitting, burning, or over-exercising. For others it’s risk, restriction, sex, or substances.
Whatever the method, the purpose is often the same: to feel something controllable when everything else feels chaotic, or to release what can’t be spoken.
It’s not attention-seeking.
It’s attention-needing.
At a glance
- Self-harm isn’t attention-seeking — it’s a survival response when emotions feel too large or too far away to name.
- The goal in therapy isn’t to stop the behaviour first, but to understand what it’s communicating.
- Regulation begins with safety and trust, not shame or shock.
- Small, sensory actions can help redirect the same energy safely while you build understanding.
- You don’t have to explain or justify — you only need space to be met with compassion instead of fear.
What pain is trying to say
Pain is the body’s oldest language. When emotions overload, the body sometimes steps in as translator. Self-harm can become a form of communication — not to others at first, but to oneself:
“This is real. I exist. The numbness broke.”
The act can bring a momentary calm. That’s not weakness — it’s physiology. Endorphins and adrenaline flood in, easing distress for a short while. But when the effect fades, shame, secrecy, or confusion can rush back in, creating a loop that’s hard to break.
Control, risk, and release
Not everyone who self-harms does so to feel pain. Some do it to control pain — to decide when and how it happens. There’s a strange relief in being the one holding the match instead of waiting for life to burn you.
For others, the same chemistry appears in risk-taking: driving too fast, pushing limits, breath play, edge play, extreme workouts.
Different actions, same function — using the body to release pressure or reclaim agency.
It’s important not to moralise this. What matters is the why, not the how. When we understand the need beneath the act — control, clarity, connection — we can find safer ways to meet it.
The endorphin effect
Our bodies are wired for survival. Pain releases natural opioids: endorphins. They numb, calm, and can even create a faint euphoria. For someone living with trauma, dissociation, or constant hyper-vigilance, that momentary release can feel like peace.
That’s why telling someone to “just stop” rarely works. It’s not about logic — it’s about chemistry, relief, and habit. Therapy and support help by offering understanding, replacement, not removal — finding new ways to access calm without injury.
Shame and secrecy
Shame keeps the pattern alive. It says: “No one will understand,” or, “If I tell them, they’ll panic.” That fear can grow stronger than the urge itself.
But when self-harm is met with curiosity instead of shock, people start to breathe again. You don’t have to justify the “why.” Sometimes the first step isn’t to stop, but to be seen without being punished for surviving.
Finding safer ground
Replacing self-harm doesn’t mean silencing pain. It means redirecting it — giving your body permission to express what words can’t yet hold.
Small steps can help the body release energy without injury:
- Hold ice cubes or run cold water over your hands.
- Tear paper, punch pillows, scribble furiously, scream into music.
- Move — walk, pace, stretch — until the body realises it’s not trapped.
- Ground through senses: smell, touch, texture, temperature.
- Visit a rage room or controlled release space — somewhere built for breaking, throwing, or shouting safely. It’s not indulgence; it’s giving your nervous system a reset in a space that’s designed for it.
Therapy and self-understanding
Therapy can help decode the message behind self-harm:
- What is the pain trying to express?
- What would happen if you listened before acting?
A good therapist won’t rush you to stop. They’ll help you understand what the behaviour protects, and build gentler ways to cope. This process isn’t about removing power — it’s about giving it back.
Our body has its own way of communicating, and sometimes it’s just lost in translation for a while, and once we know what it’s saying, it’s easier to manage.
The goal isn’t to erase pain — it’s to listen to what it’s been trying to say all along.
A human reminder
If you’ve ever harmed yourself, or used risk or pain to feel alive, you’re not broken. You found a way to survive with the tools you had. Now, there may be gentler ones waiting.
You deserve help that treats you as human — not as a problem to fix. If the urge feels overwhelming or unsafe, please reach out to emergency services or a crisis helpline. You don’t have to hold it alone.
