I Started Cutting at 12: What I wish my parents knew

I was twelve years old when I started cutting myself. The emotional pain was unbearable, and the idea of talking through my problems was the last thing I wanted to do.

Dealing with anxiety and depression early on in life resulted in me lashing out, seeking attention in ways that were mainly negative, but was the only way that seemed to catch the eyes of my parents. 

I never felt a sense of belonging whether I was with my mom or my dad. I felt lost with no place to go or no one to turn to. 

So, I found my own way to cope. As my emotions hung over me like a dark storm moving in, I was numb to any physical pain. It became my scapegoat.

My way to simply survive.

The doors were closing in, the light was getting dimmer, and in the back of my mind, I wondered: Did my parents even know? Did they pick up on any of the cues? Were they aware of how truly bad it had become?

When I look back at that period of my journey to now;  which soon became the  beginning of the darkest years of my life, here is what I wish my parents would have known:

I needed them. 

No matter how hard I pushed back or where they stood with each other. They were my only constant. The consistent constant that I needed to feel like I belonged.

Trying to cope with these flooding emotions all the while navigating what life is like as an adolescent is difficult. I was seeking acceptance of who I was, understanding the feeling that I was dealing with. Lastly, I wanted them to be mindful that not being okay was indeed okay, and even if it meant sitting in silence with them, just having them there would have given me a sense of security.

Acknowledge and Validate. 

For so many years, I not only wanted my parents but other mentors of mine to acknowledge that what I was going through was not me making a scene but a period of time where I was screaming for guidance but unaware of how to communicate that I needed help.

The emotions and feelings I was undergoing were real, and they would unexpectedly show up like a tidal wave crashing into my mind. Filled my brain with unpredictable sensations that resulted in reactions I couldn’t find solutions for. 

I yearned for those moments to be acknowledged and those feelings to be validated because I was at a loss as much as they didn’t understand what was going on.

Fast forward to today, I still have small scars that represent a very dark time in my life. But, those same scars that I used to look at with regret now fill me with gratitude. Gratitude for what I overcame, the fact that I never gave up no matter what mountain I needed to climb. 

Those years were a huge milestone for me in becoming the woman, wife, and mother I am today.