Understanding Self Harm

My book Dissected is about a girl who cuts herself to ease her emotional pain. I think a lot of people misunderstand many things about self-harm, and that's reasonable given that it's kind of like a dirty little secret that gets locked in the closet or swept under the carpet. In fact, when I was searching for a few statistics for this blog, I even had a hard time coming up with sites that talked about it. Don't get me wrong, there are ways to find out about it, after all, I did a ton of research when writing my book, but you may have to dig a little.

People that self-harm for the most part are not suicidal. They don't want to kill themselves. They are hurting themselves to forget about a larger pain or problem they are feeling, whether they are depressed about something, lonely, or just feeling empty inside. They use the harm as a coping mechanism because they don't know how else to manage their emotions.

Many of them are expert at hiding their wounds for a very long time before being found out. They hide their injuries beneath long sleeves, some of them cause injury to their legs so no one will see them. These aren't just the broody kids wearing black, sitting in the corner. Just like suicide, the cheerleader, the jock, the valedictorian...any one of them could be a self-harmer.

It's more prevalent than you may think. Research says about 1 in 6 teens have experimented with self-harm. In the U.S. 1 of every 200 girls 13 to 19 regularly engages in self injurious behavior. Girls do tend to self-harm more than boys, but boys do engage as well.

Those who self-harm may have a coinciding undiagnosed mental illness. Common ones are OCD, PTSD, Borderline Personality Disorder, depression, Bi-Polar, Schizophrenia, and Eating Disorder. There are others. Self-injurious behavior can have serious consequences as well, such as:

·        Social isolation and poor interpersonal relationships

·        Increasing feelings of shame, disgust, and guilt

·        Poor self-esteem and self-image

·        Permanent scarring

·        Injured tendons, nerves, blood vessels, and muscles

·        Permanent weakness or numbness in certain areas of the body

·        Multi-organ damage and/or failure

·        Infections at the site of self-injury

·        Septicemia

·        Suicidal thoughts and behaviors

·        Accidental, inadvertent death

Parents, don't feel guilty if your teen is able to engage in self-harm for a while before you find out. Teenagers are weird. Who would know the difference between normal teen behavior and something more serious? As I said, some kids are expert at hiding their wounds. Here are some signs you can look for in a self-harmer:

·        Always wearing long pants and long-sleeved shirts, especially when it's inappropriate, like in the summer

·        Brushing off injuries as frequent “accidents”

·        Spending a lot of time alone

·        Challenges with friendships and romances

·        Gradual withdrawal from once-enjoyed activities

·        Unpredictable, impulsive, risky behaviors

·        Depression

·        Increased anxiety

·        Scarring.

·        Scratches or cuts

·        Bruises

·        Broken bones

·        Patches of missing hair

If you're a teen that's cutting or engaging in some other form of injurious behavior, your first step is to simply tell someone. That will probably be the hardest part. If you can't tell your parents, find someone else you trust to help you whether it's a teacher, school counselor, a friend or friend's parent, a sibling or other relative. People will want to help.

If you're a parent of a self-harmer, first of all, don't freak out. Stay calm. There is help out there.  Don't assume it's "just a phase." Teens that don't get help may end up being adult cutters. Don't blame yourself or your child. Counseling will get to the bottom of your child's behavior. Don't hide all the sharp objects in your house. That's pretty unreasonable and if a child is going to hurt him or herself, they'll find a way.  Be supportive.

I wish I had advice for educators, but I know all school districts handle these children differently, some well, some not so well. I'd be interested to hear from teachers as to how their schools handle self-harmers when they are recognized at school.

Here are some resources for those who need assistance

S.A.F.E. (800) 366-8288
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline  (800) 273-8255
Students Against Depression Website started in the UK with lots of good info.
To Write Love On Her Arms
Seventeen Magazine online has posted a list of resources on its site.

Okay, so, let's move on to happier things. I'm running a giveaway to celebrate the year anniversary of my book release for Dissected. It's a uber giant prize pack. See...

t-shirt, book, SWAG (not shown), all RED gummy bears and a jar of glow in the dark stars.

Visit my Facebook page to enter.

Bully Prevention Month: Amanda Todd

She's all over cyberspace, so I'm sure you've already heard her story, if not, here's a video she made one month before her suicide. You should really watch it in its entirety. It's a tragic and haunting look at how bullying can destroy a life. She was only fifteen.

I don't even care what she did. People make mistakes. We all have. It doesn't give anyone the right to humiliate, stalk, and terrorize someone to the point that they become depressed, harm themselves and think their only way out of it is to die.

Perhaps the most troubling thing about this, she's continuing to be bullied in death. People are posting horrible memes. They calling her names, even on the dedication pages made in her honor. They're making fun of her tragic situation. It's cruel and inhuman.

We need to do whatever we can to put an end to this. Bullying is a pandemic and as it did with Amanda it can have a deadly effect.

What can we do? Make bullying illegal. Other than that, I don't know. Here's a start: the Stop Bullying Website. Also, here's a petition to arrest the cyberstalker. Officials have received an anonymous tip about his whereabouts and the fact that he's a 30 year old, which makes him a pedophile as well.

 Let's not let Amanda die in vain. Make a stand. Do something.


If I get any negative or nasty remarks on this post, I will delete them and perhaps even report them.

Wednesday Writing

This is from the novel I have out on submission, Dissection. It's when my main character, Syd first gets to the teen psyche ward. I'm going to explain one thing. The sound effect SNAP! Sometimes counselors will give cutters a rubberband, the thick kind that go around produce, to wear around their wrists, and instead of cutting, they snap the band.

So here is an excerpt from Dissection. Tell me what you think.

   As Astrid showed me to my room, I asked, “How long do I have to be here, anyway?”

   “Seventy-two hours minimum. The rest depends on you. When you can be trusted not to hurt yourself, and are weaned off of your rubber band bracelet,” she gestured to my wrist, “you should be able to leave.”

   I walked into the room and recognized a bag sitting on the bed—my purple duffel bag from home. I tore through it just to look at familiar things. None of my newer clothes were there, the ones I’d purchased when I wanted to be “new Syd”, which was fine with me because I hated “new Syd”.  I began unpacking my stuff and putting it into the closet and chest of drawers in my room. When I reached the bottom, I found a package of gummy worms. Someone had taken the time to pick only the red ones out and pack them up for me. Someone knew me well. I wondered who it was.

   “We have a hair dryer, flat iron, curling iron, and shavers, but they’re locked up and may only be used under supervision. So if you need them, let the staff know. I’m going to leave you to get settled,” Astrid said. “I’ll come to check on you in a little while.”

   A “little while” meant exactly fifteen minutes. As a cutter, I was on what they called “Extra Vigilance” observation. This meant that someone was checking up on me every fifteen minutes, like clockwork, which annoyed the hell out of me. It also meant I could go outside, but only if a staff member went with me.

   I surveyed the room. My parents had brought things to make it feel more like home. There were family photos taped to the wall, my favorite astrology book. On the bed sat a stuffed dog I’d never seen before. There was a card next to it. I opened it up and it said, I didn’t want you to miss Chewy too much. Love, Bryce. Stupid, sweet brother. I wondered if he was still dating that backstabbing bitch, Haley. I wonder if she helped him pick out the stupid dog. It made me want to rip its head off. Instead, SNAP!

   On the dresser sat a package of plastic glow-in-the-dark stars, another card sat beside it. This one said, Wasn’t sure if you’d be able to see the sky from your room~Zach. P.S. Hope you like the gummies. Wow. The gummies and the stars. It made me smile, then made me feel horrible for how I’d treated him the last few months.

   Astrid popped in, scaring the hell out of me. I nearly jumped out of my shoes. “How we doing in here?”

   “Fine.” I continued to put my things away.

   “Take a few minutes. I’ll come back in a little bit and grab you for lunch.” Fab.

   I lay on my bed and stared at the stark white ceiling, regretting every decision I’d made the last few months, David, Lacy, Zach. The E, the pot, the cutting. Being friends with Grim. I felt like I’d been sucked into a vacuous void, floating in darkness, like Cassiopeia, not in control of my limbs—just spinning deeper and deeper into the vortex.

Um, little behind on posting this week.

Okay, here. Here's a cute monkey. There. That makes up for Monday.

Let's see, yesterday I was going to write about playlists for books. Songs usually pop into my head when I'm writing. As I've been writing Dissection (formerly Sliced, which was formerly Sad) I've had a few songs come into my mind. The first was Hurt. Now, I'm hedging toward the Nine Inch Nails version, but one cannot discount the oh so awesome Johnny Cash version either.

The other song I have so far is Lights by Ellie Goulding, about depression and about how the lights are calling her back home. Likey.

Also kind of thinking Somebody That I Used to Know by Gotya. Not sold yet.

That brings us to Wednesday. I stupidly started another book, well, a series to be exact. I say stupidly because I still have to finish my revisions on Dissection, which have been like pulling the teeth from a lion. And I gave myself a deadline of *cough* the end of this month to finish. Um, that gives me four days to get through 160 pages. sigh. I'm not going to say I'm not going to do it. I'm really going to try like hell.

But I am really excited about this series. I kind of took a book I'd already written and twisted it all up, and then through in this storyline about the integration of church and state along with a dystopian setting and BAM! Book series. not going to say any more than that for now, or give away the name. Maybe when I get further along I'll share some of the writing. :D

Happy Hump Day ya'll!

Turbulant Tuesday...um, I mean Friday

Yeah, I started this post on Tuesday. Um, little behind on the blogging this week, so without further ado...

Rewrites. My beta readers are coming back with their critiques. They're all very good, but now I'm finding it hard to breathe. Revisions, rewriting, reading a book yet again. You start to hate your own work when you've read it so many times. I'm not there with Sliced yet, but I'm sure it's coming soon. I just want one rewrite then I want to submit it.

I think it's good, but it needs some work. I think I'll just post some of it here. Right now. Total spontaneous idea. Tell me what you think. Or don't. :)

One morning when I was six-years-old, I woke up and found my mom’s telescope leaning against the wall. I remember looking around to see if I was in the right room because my mother never let me touch the thing. I climbed out of bed, walked over to it and stared for a moment. It seemed so big to me at the time, and gleamed shiny silver. I reached out and touched it—just with my index finger. I was afraid at any moment my mom would burst in and yell at me for touching her precious conduit to the stars. Nothing happened so I stroked it with my hand as if it were a kitten. Smooth and cold, I liked how it felt under my skin. My mom looked through it every night. If I asked nice and she was in a good mood, which was almost never, she’d let me, too.

I wondering again why my mom’s most prized possession was leaning against my bedroom wall. Then I saw the box. On my desk. It was my pre-school pencil box, pink with different colored flowers and Hello Kitty. I was afraid to open it, as if something horrible would jump out. I caressed the telescope again then decided nothing scary could probably fit in a Hello Kitty pencil box, so I opened it. There wasn’t much inside—her sparkly pink costume jewelry I thought was so beautiful back then, a few pictures of her and me. I don’t think I’d remember what she looked like without those pictures. I often considered burning them in effigy. The box held a letter, too. It said, Sorry, Sydney, but mommy isn’t happy. She has to go find joy. When I find it, I’ll be back. She didn’t sign it, there was no I love you, she. didn’t even draw a heart, or add any xo’s. And she never came back—which means maybe she never ‘found joy’ which is the only gratification I get from her abandonment—and of course the telescope, which took me exactly four years to the day to pick up and use.

Friday Scribbles:

Random Pandora Song: Break Even by The Script

Netflix of the week: Gray's Anatomy Season Seven. I just watched a musical episode. I love when shows do that.

Book of the week: I'm going with Scarlet by AC Gaughen and Lethally Blonde by Patrice Lyle, both are fellow 2k12ers and both release on Valentines Day

Quote of the week: I've been thinking a lot about relationships lately, so I'm going with this one “How can a woman be expected to be happy with a man who insists on treating her as if she were a perfectly normal human being." ~ Oscar Wilde