Cutting: One Mom's Tale

As a teen, I was bullied relentlessly. I was a fat kid that was poor, had messy hair, glasses and braces. People just loved to pick on me. In addition to all of that, I was in JROTC, I was a nerd, I read...A LOT. It wasn't easy.

I wasn't sure how to handle the pain of being bullied. My home life wasn't much better, because my mother was married to a monster of a man that was an alcoholic and took his unhappiness out on everyone around him. My mother worked to provide for my brother and I....well, it wasn't all rainbows and unicorns, that's for sure.

I was depressed. I knew this, my mom knew it, everyone knew it, but sadly, nothing could really be done because we couldn't afford it. I wrote dark poetry, listened to angry music (when I wasn't listening to Hanson) and played the part of pissed off teenager very well.

What people DIDN'T know was that I was cutting myself.

It started when I was in middle school. I wanted a tattoo, I was angry at the world and I thought that if I scratched something into my skin and put ink in it, I'd have a tattoo. That didn't work, but what I DID realize is that cutting myself made me feel better for a little while. It made the hurt go away, just briefly. So I kept doing it.

I mostly kept to my ankles, because I always had pants or socks on, so it wasn't that big of a deal. Then one day, something happened and, frankly, I'm not sure what, but I wanted to slit my wrists. I wanted to die. So I tried to do that.

Looking back,  using a safety pin probably wasn't the best of ideas, but it may have saved my life.

From that point on, I cut on my arms because it was more satisfying. I've never done drugs, but I imagine that cutting is like what a drug addict feels like when they take that much needed hit. When you are a cutter, you let it all build up inside and when you finally do make that first cut, you just let this sigh out.....a sigh of relief, a sigh that says "Yes, I really am still alive...I'm not as numb inside as I thought."

I hid my cuts as best as I could. If they were noticed, I blamed it on one of the cats. It worked and I hid it for a long time. Several years in fact. Then one night, I cut myself so bad that I couldn't hide it.

I'd just broken up with my ex, a different guy I had feelings for was playing with my emotions. I was a single mom of twins, I was struggling and I was feeling overwhelmed. I was trying to relax, so I lit some candles and started listening to music and that ultimately made me feel worse. I found a box cutter that I'd had hidden (at this point, I'm escalated from using a safety pin to using knives and razors). I held out my arm, pulled the blade across my skin and just felt relief.

Then I felt fear.

I'd cut myself deeper than usual and I was bleeding a lot. I didn't cut across my wrist, but I cut across a vein and I thought I hit it. I wrapped my arm in a towel and it bled through that. I called my friends Justin and Kymmi, in tears, because I was scared and ashamed. They came over and we talked. By the time they got to my house, the bleeding had pretty much stopped. I bandaged it up with their help and, after they left, I went to bed.

The next morning, I told my mom about it and confessed to her. Here I was a 23 year old mother of two, still living with my mom, crying on her shoulder. She started crying and begged me not to do it again. I told her I wouldn't and I lived by that. I gave her all my cutting material at that time. She, in turn, agreed to be there when I needed to talk. She even paid for me to get my nose pierced when I was feeling low one day. That helped a ton!

I haven't INTENTIONALLY cut myself since that day (with the exception of this one time I tried to prove to my husband that a fabric cutting thing wasn't sharp enough to cut through skin. I was wrong, but it didn't do any damage. lol). I found other ways to deal with my depression. If I feel the depression getting so strong again that I want to cut, I always look at my scar and remind myself that I have a reason to live. I have a purpose.

I'm almost 30 now and it's been at least 6 years since I cut (maybe a little more). I'm married to an amazing man and I realize that my kids are where they need to be...with me. They are the reason I wake up every morning and I don't turn to something like cutting anymore.

I still get depressed, but it's not near as bad as it use to be. A lot of it is tied to my weight and self esteem. But I have better control over my depression now and I know that, while I may be down right now, I'll get through that storm.

If you or someone you know is cutting or even thinking about suicide, please listen to them. Talk to them and let them know you are there for them. For more information on hotlines, please check out the USA National Suicide and Crisis Hotlines.

Bullying: My Pledge To The World

Sarah: Circa 2000

When I was in middle and high school, I was bullied relentlessly. I was the perfect target; I was overweight, I wore glasses, I had braces, I was poor and I was a nerd.
I've heard it all....."fatty, fatty two by four, can't fit through the kitchen door", etc, etc. No, it wasn't fun times at all. I hated high school, but it was an escape from home, where life wasn't much better (sorry, mom...but it wasn't). Often times, you found me hiding in the library, reading a book. At home, you found me locked in my bedroom, escaping in to the world of Dawson's Creek or Friends.

A scar from one of my cutting sessions.

How did I deal with the pain? I wrote horrible poetry and I started cutting myself. I often thought of suicide but, honestly, was too chicken to follow through, so cutting myself seemed to be the next best thing. This continued into adulthood, but that's another story for another day.
When my kids started school, I was terrified that they'd have to go through the same thing I went through or that, worse, THEY'D be bullies themselves. I tried to teach them acceptance and, so far, I think I've done a pretty good job. They are very understanding that people are different and that they shouldn't pick on them or be mean. Anastasia has a little trouble with this with Sebastian. She can be mean to him and pick on him, but we are trying to break her of that habit.
One thing I teach my kids is that words can hurt.
A lot.

And that picking on people and bullying is so far from cool, it's not even funny. It doesn't make you cool, or rad, or bad ass. It makes you look weak, in my opinion. It makes me feel sorry for all parties, because I truly believe that a lot of bullies are doing it for reasons other than just being mean. I think there is something going on in their home life that is making them so miserable, they are trying to get company.
More and more, you are hearing about young people committing suicide over being bullied. Off the top of my head, I can think of two; Amanda Todd and Felicia Garcia. Both girls committed suicide after being tormented and bullied, in person and on social websites like Facebook and Twitter. Both girls torment and bullying stemmed from sexual things. They were called names, treated horribly, Felicia's sexual act was filmed, unbeknownst to her.
Kids have so many outlets at their disposal these days, outlets that enable them to be even more cruel than necessary. Young kids have Facebooks..hell, MY kids have them! Parents are busy and aren't as proactive in their kids lives. Have you seen the movie "Cyberbully"? I think it's a must watch with your kids.
So, after reading these stories, I decided to take a stand and make a pledge. My pledge is to teach my kids against bullying and to stand up for people they see being bullied. And I, myself, won't be a bully either. I wish bullying would end, but I don't see how when many adults are just as cruel (take the website Cafemom for example.....you'll see plenty of grown women purposely being mean to others.).  The only thing I can do, as one person and a parent, is teach my kids that bullying is NOT okay.

Bullying is stopping here. I'll not tolerate it and I'll not accept it. I wish I could come up with ideas to get this message into schools, ways to help students learn acceptance.
Here is where you can all step in.
Pledge to do your part to teach your kids, or ANY kid for that matter, that bullying is NOT okay. It's simply not.
We may not be able to do much, but if it reaches just one person, then I call it a success!
~Sarah

Our Scars Remind Us That The Past Is Real

My good friend Stephanie, over at Gumdrop Pass (Our Spotlight this week!) posted a really interesting post about scars. You pick one scar that you have and you share how you got it. It can be funny, serious, whatever you want it to be. I'm going to post one that is serious, the story behind it is dark and the message is huge.
I have a scar on my left inner arm, right above a tattoo that I have. It's raised, probably 6 years old, and flesh colored. This scar serves as a reminder that, sometimes, pain is too much to overcome, but stupid things could lead to unnecessary pain to others, because YOU lost control.
I'd only been broken up with my boyfriend of a year and a half for probably 6 months or so. I'd met someone else who was just playing with me and toying with me. I was a single mom of 1 year old twins, working, going to college and taking care of my mother, who was on chemo. I was overwhelmed. I was depressed. I was stressed and stretched beyond my means.
I was sitting in my room, listening to depressing music, lights out, candles burning. I was thinking about my life, all the things that was going wrong and I just couldn't take the pain anymore. So, I resorted to doing something I did quite a bit as a teen. I pulled out a box cutter and decided to cut myself.
Let me back track here. In my teen years, I was horribly picked on. It seemed like kids were really mean back then. I was overweight, I was poor, I wasn't cool at all. And these kids tore into me. I found that hiding in my room and cutting myself eased the pain. So I did that...frequently. I always hid it from my mom, doing it in places that no one would see. I'd slowed down when I met my boyfriend my Junior year. The middle of my senior year, we got married. Almost a year later, I found out I was pregnant, which I lost that baby. I'd started cutting again. Not even 3 months later, I found out I was pregnant again. Again, that resulted in a miscarriage. I kept on cutting. Then, we split up and I moved in with my Dad...kept cutting. Then, I moved back with my mom, started seeing someone, he played me, started cutting again. Then, I met my twins' biological father and stopped. I was done for a long time, almost 2 years. Then that night, I cut again.
I pulled that box cutter across my arm and felt a release. Then, I looked down. I was bleeding...A LOT. More than I'd ever bled. And I got scared. I wrapped a towel around my arm to stop the bleeding and bled through it. I called my friends Justin and Kymmi, crying, freaking out, because I thought I'd hit a major artery. They came over and the bleeding had stopped by then. They talked to me and I cried and got it out and it felt good, better than when I cut myself.

What this taught me was that cutting CAN get too deep and you CAN get carried away. I'm lucky I didn't die that night, because I wouldn't have this AWESOME life I have now. My kids would have been motherless. Looking back, it was stupid and I hate myself for it. But I have this scar to remind me, when things get bad, cutting is not the answer. I haven't cut myself SINCE then.....well, once, but that is actually a funny story. My husband found a fabric cutter at my step-grandma's house and I bet him it wasn't sharp enough to cut skin. It was. lol. Now, I talk to people when I'm upset. Sure, sometimes, when it gets to be too much, I want to cut, but I don't. I have far too much to live for.