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I used to scratch in grade eight and then stopped over the summer. The end of grade 9, I was dealing with clinical depression and I took a piece of glass and cut myself thirteen times on my legs.
When I got to school I was sent to counsellors office because my
teacher saw the cuts. The counsellor had me call my parents and
immediately my Mom thought I was suicidal. She got all worried about
the risk of infection, and when we got home she took away and hid what
I used to cut myself. She understood that it was a reaction to problems
but she didn't get so much of it. She proceded to basically invade my
privacy and for the next two months I couldn't shut my bedroom door and
if I was in my room for long periods of time she'd demand to know what
I was doing. We dealt with the problems but she didn't really make an
effort to understand it. She was all worried about it "becoming an
addiction" and "you could get badly infected". She was determined, it
seemed, to stop the harm, then deal with problem, not the other way
around. I didn't get much support from some of my long time friends.
One saw the cuts, I told her what had happened and she said "oh well, I
really don't care". Another couldn't get over the "why would you put
yourself in pain like that?".
I guess the best way to describe it is like this: You are on a bucking
horse and you have two options. You can throw yourself off or you can
ride it through and hope it'll get better. if you throw yourself off
you know you'll get hurt but you also know that the immdeiate fear,
tension and pain will end. It also made me mad that my Mom was all
worried about whether or not this was the first time I had hurt myself
because "I don't want you to get addicted". She acted like she knew all
about it, when really she knew so little, and when I told her "I'm not
suicidal", she didn't want to believe me. I have yet to tell her that
that wasn't the first time. I don't want more questions and more
invasion of my privacy. I hated how she thought that by controlling me
and removing what I used she could stop me. You can't stop the person.
Anything can be used to hurt yourself. Cooking knives, scissors, pins,
tacks, glass, knail clippers, razors, sharp edges. You name it.
It has gotten better with my Mom. She's learned some about SE, but she
still has some weird ideas. When I got home after the TTC, I talked
about your speaking, in hopes of shaking her up. I talked about how you
were right when you said "they aren't suicidal. They're fighting to
stay alive". She was surprised, kind of went silent, and said "oh". She
doesn't like being wrong.
Thanks for taking the time to read this. I know I kind of rambled
and I'm sorry. I really just wanted to get what I needed to say said. I
am getting better, and I do want to not hurt myself. I have only
recently, at the conference actually, re-accepted God into my life, and
I found that prayer helps. I also found an alternative that helps me. I
basically create my anger, confusion, tension, hurt whatever, into
somehing physical, without cutting or scratching. It can be a drawing,
red pen on my skin, or a sculpture. I recently just did one, and I will
take a picture and send it to you. Thank you.
Christine
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