My daughter started cutting herself again on her upper legs and lower abdomen sometime around mid June. She thought she could handle it on her own. She should have told me, but she didn’t. She should have told her counselor, but she didn’t. Depression fills her with shame, afraid to admit what she’s done and not strong enough to solve the problem without help.
Instead, her plan is to tell her friend about it, the senior boy she DMs with on Instagram. He is the most important friendship she has, the one she stepped outside her box to make, the one that provides her with acceptance, a big brother, a protector. She knows there will never be a romance and has accepted that. But she is desperate for his friendship. Her self-esteem so low, she needs him to hold it up for her.
In May, when she went through her first dark storm, he was the rock she clung to. He had experience with cutting and depression. He had wisdom and advice, like talking to your parents, to your therapist. She didn't always follow. She expected he would be the same supportive friend like the last time, but he changed the game on her. Sometimes being a friend means stepping away. He gave her an ultimatum instead—tell your parents what is happening and get help, or I can’t talk to you anymore. Her last desperate messages to him went unread.
What do you do when you have nothing to lose? When depression twists your mind and tells you the one friend you value most has turned away so life is no longer worth living? When immaturity blinds you to the true gravity and consequences of your actions? Before she can breathe, like a flash, every mistake, every flaw, every worthless feeling rolls over her in waves and suddenly there’s no way out, nowhere to go, no future in which she can bear to imagine herself a part of without his friendship.
Recklessness drives a person with a death-wish to live on the edge, always searching for new ways to get that thrill—constantly undertaking more and more dangerous tasks. Like an addict searching for the next high, she is searching for the edge upon which to perch herself. Immaturity dares her to keep looking farther and farther over it, until there is no recovering her balance and the fall is imminent.
How does obsession drive compulsion? How does the need to be loved and accepted by someone, anyone, change your behavior into an unrecognizable version of yourself? The quiet, shy honor student who earned straight A's both semesters suddenly peering into the deepest darkest corners, in the places no one goes because we as parents warn our kids over and over about the dangers that lurk there.
This is the part of parenting teenagers that they don’t tell you about. That part where you’ve talked to them about common sense, and you know they have it, and they know they have it, but when depression moves in and brings along anxiety they prey upon low self-esteem and worthlessness, shredding them and leaving them like confetti. They push common sense out the door, its presence deemed unnecessary. And once the party is over, and the curtains are thrown open and the damage is surveyed, there’s nothing but shame and regret and disappointment lingering behind. Not to mention fear. Fear is lingering under the bed, of what will happen if your parents find out.
Depression lies to her and allows her to be lured in by darkness because she is desperate for someone to love her and find her attractive. Because she has no self-esteem. Because she would rather kill herself than live without the friendship of another. Because she feels worthless. Because she feels pressured to be perfect. Because despite how much her parents, her family, her teachers, and her friends love her, and tell her over and over and over how much we love her—the fact remains that depression has declared itself the supreme ruler of her mind.
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