I always wondered what it would be like to be one of “those people” who always talk about how much they loved high school. And how they would love to relive it again. Are you kidding me? Seriously? High School is one of the most traumatizing events of a persons life. It was for me anyway. I’m not sure my theory of the connection between brain injury and hormones can be validated with science, but for me, that is when everything fell apart.
Being a 13 year old is such an awkward age. You are trying to find your identity. But really you get lost in what others think of you. And if what they think is either good or bad, then that must be who you are. Well, at least that was the case for me. Turning 13 was a game changer. I fell in with the popular crowd somehow, but I was always an outsider. This story is really painful, and I don’t know how to retell it at all. I’m not even sure there are words to describe it. But here it is, I did something impulsive, something not in line with who I was. I said something mean about a boy to one of my friends, and somehow word got back to him. And then that boy decided to make my life a living hell. To be honest, I am still afraid of running into him to this day. I was bullied to a point that I was scared to go to school. And it continued from Junior High well into High School. I never understood how that one thing that I said, one thing, could make such an impact on his life that he could take it out on me for years. How do you hold on to the hate for so long?
He decided to give me a name, an ugly one that I won’t repeat. Every where I would go, in the halls, when I walked into a class, he would yell or say this name. And everyone knew that it was meant for me, and they would all laugh. Because he was the most popular boy in school, and they just wanted to fit in. Just like I did. To be honest, they were probably just grateful that it wasn’t them. I wished I was invisible. I wished I would just die, and I came up with scenario after scenario of different ways that I could make it happen. Not a day went by that I didn’t hear that name being called. It finally died down my junior year of high school. I guess the novelty of it wore off. But the damage was done.
I became obsessed. Obsessed with my weight, how I looked each day, what I wore. My OCD swept into high gear. There would be days that I couldn’t get my hair to look perfect, so I would get in the shower and do it all again, and again. I couldn’t leave the house until it was perfect. I remember forgetting my earrings one day and I went in to full meltdown mode. I drove myself home in the middle of school -who cares that I missed biology- I just had to get my earrings so the anxiety would subside.
My parents recognized that I changed. That they didn’t know who I was anymore. We went to therapy. It helped for a while. I was prescribed my first depression and anxiety medication. I was just 16. Now we are treading into scary territory for me. You would think with all the things I had talked about in this blog, that being honest about all this wouldn’t be a problem. But this still hurts. So, since I couldn’t figure out how to to take my life, I found another way to relieve the pain, by inflicting it upon myself. I mean, didn’t I deserve it? I was the one who started it right? I called the boy a name and so it was all my fault. I deserved the pain. I began something that people call cutting. It actually started by accident. I cut myself shaving my legs and the pain took over and stopped all my racing thoughts. So it became part of my life. The scars are still there, and the cutting only stopped a short time ago. Any time I have a high amount of stress in my life, unfortunately I am always drawn back to it.
The perfectionist in me needed to be in control. And in addition to cutting, food took center stage. Portion control, starving myself. Then one day, full on bulimia. That part didn’t actually start until I was in my 20’s. And this will be news to almost everyone except my husband – that I suffered with bulimia on and off for 7 years. Now, I want to address this right. These are hard things. So here is a little bit of information.
From a noted Psychologist, “We can go to any school and ask, ‘Do you know anyone who cuts?’ Yeah, everybody knows someone, and very often, kids who self-harm have an eating disorder. Many are sensitive, perfectionists, overachievers. The self-injury begins as a defense against what’s going on in their lives. They have failed in one area of their lives, so this is a way to get control.”
“Self-injury can also be a symptom for psychiatric problems like borderline personality disorder (sound familiar?) anxiety disorder, bipolar or schizophrenia. Yet many kids who self-injure are simply ‘regular kids’ going through the adolescent struggle for self-identity. They’re experimenting. I hate to call it a phase, because I don’t want to minimize it. It’s kind of like kids who start using drugs, doing dangerous things.”
I am pleading with you! If you know someone who is starting down this path. If you are recognizing even the littlest of signs. Don’t ignore it. Get them proper help! This has ramifications far beyond the teenage years.1-800-273-TALK is a really great resource available 24 hours a day. All I know is that I wanted to find someone that understood. If you aren’t that person, figure out a way to become it. Get educated and arm yourself with knowledge, compassion and love. And if you are the person who this describe please know, You are NOT alone. We understand, and there is help for you!
Eye Opening Honesty 