Teenagers Scare The Living Shit Out Of Me

 Panic At The Disco said it well: teenagers scare the living shit out of me. 

I think as a mother, it's hard to not feel like a failure. All your friends and family members can hype you up by telling you you're trying your best, you're doing all you can, that your kids will be your kids no matter how good of a job you're doing. But when you see them struggling, see them failing, it's hard to not feel responsible in some way. 

Right now my struggle is Lyla, my 14 year old. 

She's always been an on-edge, anxiety-ridden kid. I used to categorize this as her being "sensitive" when she was in her early school years. I remember filling out those pre-school forms and explaining that she feels things very deeply and has strong emotional reactions. It wasn't until she was about 7 or 8 when we got her into professional therapy that we realized those sensitivities and emotional reactions were actually components of some severe anxiety/depression. 

She was medicated for a few years; first with zoloft, then with buspirone, and now supplementing with vitamin D (as she is deficient), magnesium and a wonderfully natural product called Day Chill. These things work wonders -when she remembers to take them, which is minimal. She will tell you she doesn't see or feel a difference, but ask her dad, sister, or me, and we will tell you differently. 

I mention all this because over a year ago, we realized she had begun self-harming by using the razor from her shower to slash her wrists horizontally. She didn't mean for us to see the marks, and despite it being summer in the south, she wore long sleeves, several bracelets, or used concealer to hide them. On the night we spotted them, she has just come from a night-swim at the neighbors. Our own pool was still in the process of being installed and with all the dirt and mud, we acquired a collection of frogs, which we spent that night catching to bring to our neighborhood's pond. Lyla must have forgotten that the pool would wash off her concealer, leaving her wounds out in the open for me to see. My first reaction was to ask her "what is on your wrist?". Once I realized what I was seeing, and once I saw the color quite literally drain from her face, we asked her little sister, Hannah, to go upstairs while my husband, Eric, and I talked to her. 

She was a deer in headlights at first. My husband and I tried to remain calm in order to create a safe space for her to communicate in - this was extra important to me because in middle school, I also self-harmed. When concerned friends told the principal and that principal called my mother, her response to me was "this better not be true, I don't have time for this". Even though my own purpose in cutting was mostly for attention, I didn't want to assume that in Lyla's situation, and above all, wanted to be a better mother than my own was in this situation. 

She eventually told us that it was over a recent break up. One that we had discussed with her, telling her that being sad, upset, angry, or even embarrassed were all normal feelings that she was entitled to. She brushed it off, at the time, saying that she was better off without him and all the things we are told to feel better after a break up. Soon enough she admitted to the hurt, and that she knew people cut themselves to release bad feelings inside, and that she wanted to feel better. Side note: Lyla could own stock in Hot Topic with her grunge, metal, emo style, and I unfairly thought that she cut herself because of the stigma attached to the kids who tend to dress this way. I know stereotyping isn't right, but I did ask her if the cutting was some sort of accessory to her wardrobe and way she presents herself. Mostly, because of the amount of marks on her arm. It wasn't several marks done over time with different degrees of healing or fading, she was slashed from wrist to elbow as if it was all done at the same time. And, where I cut myself for attention, I asked her if she was doing the same. 

She continued to explain that it wasn't for attention and had nothing to do with her clothes or music choices. She told us it was a one time thing at first, but eventually opened up and admitted that she liked it and felt better after doing it. When asked when she did it, she shared that it was at night, after everyone was asleep. Talk about a punch to the gut; sleeping soundly in my bed, naïve to the fact that my teenager is hurting so deeply that she's taking a razor to her wrist, and both of us waking up like nothing happened. 

My older brother, Nate, used to self harm for years. I knew he would be the person to talk to, and a lot of what he said was hard to hear and abide by. I had no idea what to do when I saw my daughter's wrist and arm all hacked up. Do I take her door off the hinges so we can keep a better eye on her? Do I remove the razor from the shower? Do we not let het listen to music with lyrics like "sometimes dead is better"? Can she be trusted home alone? Do I need to do body checks every so often? The main thing Nate shared with me was to not add shame; if she's feeling bad enough to self harm, "punishing" her will only make her feel worse and that it may push her away from coming to us in the future. He told us to focus on the "whys" - why she's doing it, why she was feeling that way. 

At the time, we struggled to find a counselor who would take her insurance or who wasn't $200/hour. I kept looking and, as a family, we kept talking and checking in. Things were seeming better. Summer came again and I'd discreetly scan her body for any new marks. None. I thought maybe we were doing good; that we created an environment for her far better than what I had growing up, and that the combination of showering her with love while simultaneously giving her space had been the right fix. But here's the thing about parenting - or being a human in general - you can't fix other people no matter how hard you try.

Because over a year later, she did it again. 

Last Monday, the day before Halloween, my husband was at a softball game and I was in my bathroom washing up for bed. Lyla came in to say goodnight in short sleeves, and that's when I saw the marks. I'm not sure if she simply forgot about them, or possibly wanted me to see them, but there they were. Several marks on her sweet left wrist and arm, and my heart sank. Remembering what my brother had told me about shame, I calmly say "Oh, Ly, again? What were you feeling?". Now, on top of being anxiety ridden and introverted, we also have your typical teenage attitude that accompanies anything that flies out of her mouth, so she tried shutting it down saying she wasn't going to talk about it. I told her that talking about it is important, even if it's not with me. 

*Another side note: Eric and I recently had a discussion about the girls confiding in me and saying "don't tell dad!" - this is tricky because my husband is my person; I'm a talker when things aren't going well and he's my first call. However, with us having daughters and them getting older, there are going to be things they open up to me as their mother about and would prefer their dad not to know. So, in this conversation, we discussed some examples of "need or don't need" to share, and ultimately it came down to their safety; if they made a poor choice that puts their safety at risk, it's something I will choose to share.*

Lyla's conversation began with "you can't tell dad" - and I knew that I'd be putting myself in a situation either way; I keep the secret from my husband or I lie to my daughter and share with Eric anyway. At the end of the day, I need my daughter to at least think she can trust me so that as she gets older and things get harder, I can continue to be her safe space. However, knowing that cuts on her wrist falls under the safety category, I knew I'd be sharing with Eric. If you've known me at all in the last several years, you know that lying is something I try so hard not to do - hell, I was relieved when my girls stopped believing in Santa so I didn't have to lie. So these situations really weigh heavy on me, but being there to listen to my daughter and also keep my husband in the loop of his daughters safety seemed like my only choice. I promised not to tell, so that she would share.

Her "why" was because she feels like she is falling in love with her best friend, who is a straight girl. Lyla has dated both boys and girls and refers to herself as gay or bisexual. Things that, in our immediate family, we are in full acceptance of. But here's where my worry comes in: the first time she self harmed was over a boyfriend breaking up with her, and this time was because she can't control how someone feels about her or vice versa. It's scary because both times have been because of other people. I told her I was scared for her, because there is so much more hurt, heartbreak and disappointment ahead. I asked her what will happen after the first real relationship, where she falls in love, loses her virginity, makes future plans, and then gets her heart broken? Will slivers of cuts be enough to ease the pain? Will she take it too far? Which then lead me to a conversation about safety. Another thing my brother Nate shared with me was that his self harm had nothing to do with wanting to end his life, but that accidents can happen, and did in fact happen to him. He used a razor he was unfamiliar with, it cut deeper than he expected, and he ended up needing stiches. I shared this story with Lyla the first time we became aware of her self-harming, and brought it up again last week. I needed her to know that as much as I don't agree with her using this as an outlet for hurt, that I will always be there to help her. Ideally, that help would come in the form of a conversation before any cutting took place, but I needed her to know that if she fucked up, if she cut too deep, if she was bleeding and scared, that I 100% want (need) her to come into my room and ask for help. And that I will non-judgmentally help bandage her up or get her the help she needs. Because of her embarrassment and introvertred-ness, I can see her being the kind of kid who would feel scared or shamed to ask for help, and that would lead to me finding her the following morning. I can't imagine that loss, so my emphasis was making her promise she'd come to me for help if she ever needed it. 

Of course, when my husband arrived home from softball and the girls were in bed, I told him that Lyla shared something with me that she asked me not to tell him. He asked if it involved her safety, and I said yes, so he felt it was something that needed to be shared. However, in order to keep feeling like a safe place for Lyla, I asked him if he'd be able to keep it to himself; no concerned conversations with her, no fearful looks when she takes a shower, no indication whatsoever that he's aware. This all felt so sneaky and wrong of me, but it was the only way I saw fit to do my best for both Lyla and Eric in this situation. He agreed - and is so good about it - and I told him everything. We both talked about how we are so scared for her, that we truly think she'd take her life one day which I can't stand saying out loud, but she's so down on herself and places her feelings in everyone else's hands, that I fear she will get so low one day and think of putting an end to it. 

The first thing I did was dive deeper into finding her a therapist, and thanks to the help of an amazing friend, we found a place that both takes her insurance and is accepting new patients. I also made a therapy appointment for myself and Eric with a trusted psychologist from back home, in order to help us navigate through this properly. 

The tricky thing - and I think this goes for all teenagers and not just those who self-harm - is that you don't want to over punish but you don't want there to be no consequences. I fear that if we over punish for some of the other teenage things she's been doing, like lying, that it'll cause her to be less truthful (because any teenager who thinks they can get away with something rather than  be honest and accept a consequence will almost always try getting away with it first) - despite years of conversations about how the punishment will be far less if you're caught and honest, rather than caught then lie. So, I worry that putting her back into therapy will be viewed as a punishment in her eyes, and cause her to clam up rather than open up with us. However, at the end of the day, if she's talking to someone, I'll take it.

Parenting is hard and I feel stuck. I used to be the mom who did it all; playgrounds, library story time, play dates, arts and crafts, dance parties...now I get a death stare for telling my teenager I love her, and I feel like I have no idea how to connect with her. She loves guitar but won't play in front of anyone. She loves to draw but seldom shows us her work. I've asked her so many times if there's anything she can think of that she'd like to do as a family now that she's outgrown all of the kid-stuff I was so good at. Unless we're taking her shopping, she's mostly miserable. She's hard to be around, brings down the mood of the entire family, is unwilling to talk about her feelings, and is silently hacking away at herself in the late night hours unbeknownst to us. I am scared. Part of parenting is learning to let go, and I think there is a control freak in every parent which makes that idea hard. Especially if letting go means less time with her, less awareness, less connection - and knowing she's hurting herself. I'm doing my best to find balance between letting her know I'm here for her and giving her space when I see she needs it. I'm trying to be the quiet observer instead of the panicked parent. All I know is that to describe what this feels like, is to be holding onto water when all it's going to do is slip through your fingers. I feel like I'm losing my daughter, both to those cliché teenage years, but also because I fear for how she views her quality of life, no matter how much we fill it for her. 

All I can do is hope she is receptive to therapy, has that 3rd party non-biased person to talk to, and still knows that I will always be here for her. I hope she sees that taking her supplements (and SSRI's if necessary) will only make her feel better. I hope she finds her worth, sees her value, and learns to love herself so that she can give this world all she has to offer.