Self Harm

I had a few friends that cut themselves when we were in high school. At the time I always swore that no matter what I wouldn’t turn to cutting. I never understood why someone would want to physically hurt themselves when going through emotional pain. But during my freshman year of high school my thought process changed about self harm. It was a week before homecoming and I was tired of feeling numb from the emotional pain.

It was then that I realized why people cut, burn, or abuse themselves. They have become so numb from all the emotional pain in their lives. Unable to feel anything, left with no emotion, no feeling. In the brief moment of taking a blade to their skin and seeing their own blood they feel alive. Out of everything in their harsh reality their own physical pain becomes the realist thing they know. For once they feel alive. It also becomes the one thing they are able to control.

It becomes difficult when you learn that someone you love is harming themselves. Especially when we ourselves are believers in Christ. So many questions come up about how can I help them, how can I get them to stop? For me when I am faced with someone who self harms or when Satan is trying to get me back on that path I take a moment. I start to think about Jesus’ last moments before the crucifixion. He was whipped,  beaten, had a crown of thorns forced onto his  head. He was so bloody and disfigured from the torture He was unrecognizable.

Jesus bleed so we don’t have to. He endured horrific cuts on His body, so why should we cause ourselves to bleed?

In times of strife and heartache, when I want to give in to the blade I think of that. He doesn’t want to see us hurt. He wants us to come to Him and lay our problems at His feet and let Him take care of them. I look at my scars and I remind myself that I don’t have to hurt myself.

This Is My Story

This day in history

Three years ago today my life changed. It started like any other. Mom woke me up told me to get ready for school, a little small talk. I got my bag ready for volleyball practice but I knew I wouldn’t be needing it. Not today. I sat on the edge of my bed looking out my window waiting for the bus to come and get me. Sitting there I continued the ongoing battle in my head, unsure if I really wanted to go through with my plan. The bus came and I headed down the stairs, but instead of just walking out the door like normally I did something a bit different. I grabbed the bottle of painkillers sitting on the shelf above kitchen sink shoved them in my bag and went on my way. I was tired of being sad, tired of hating my life, hating me. I just wanted the pain to stop.

Nobody was seated near me on the bus, so I took a hold of the opportunity and took a handful of pills. The ride to the high school was different then most. I took in the sights, for in my head I believed it to be the last time I would see the countryside and the features of the small towns of North Loup and Scotia. As the bus arrived to the school I took another bunch of pills before getting off.  I went straight to the girls locker room like any other day and sat there holding the pill bottle in my hand.

My breathing was heavy, my knees weak, hands shaking I took more pills. I felt so dead inside for all the heartache and pain in my life. Constantly blaming myself for my dad being in prison. Feeling like my mom hated me, not wanting me as her daughter. All the emotions running through my head were killing me. My thoughts had become Satan’s playroom.

The bell rang sending me to studyhall. It was boring, and halfway through class I left to take more out of the bottle of pills. During passing time between my first two classes in the day took more. Only wanting the pills to kick in and do me over. Second period class was the same. I felt no need to participate in the class homework because in my mind I wouldn’t live to see the hand in day. Before Third period I continued to take more.

I remember walking into Mr. Hawley’s science room. My vision was starting to blur and I couldn’t walk in a straight line. My body was trembling. I sat down trying to wrap my head around what I was doing. One of my friends at the time realized something was wrong. She tried asking me what was wrong but I blocked out her words. Trying to think of a way to get the pills out of my system. I went into the science closet looking for peroxide. Courtney walked in on me taking a drink of it. She freaked out asking what I was doing.

Through shaking breaths I told her I wanted to die, but now I don’t want to. I needed to get the pills out of my system. I left her in the closet to sit in her thoughts about what I just said and headed for the second floor restroom. I don’t remember how long I sat there, trying to get myself to throw up the pills. I remember my step sister Kloreace coming into the restroom asking what was wrong. after a while I told her how I felt. About not wanting to continuing life. She left the room and came back within five minutes. Telling me that we could go talk in Ms. Rakness’ outer counseling room. I believed her, and left the restroom only to be confronted by a haunting look. Mr. Young standing outside of his office looking at me with hurt in his eyes. Kloreace left leaving me alone with him. He took me into his office, and asked me “Why”. I hurt him deeply that day.

He called my caseworker and they arranged to get me to the Ord hospital. It became embarrassing, that I had tried to end my own life because I didn’t succeed. It almost looked like it was for attention. Nothing was worse than seeing my mom after I was admitted to the hospital. She felt as if she had failed as a mother.

At this point anxiety took over, making it hard to talk to people. I was worried about everything, from what they thought of me to how I was going to go on with life. I wasn’t until I was put into the Richard Young mental hospital the next day did God start to speak to me.

Lying awake in the institution I finally realized what I had done. Realized that I could have hurt a lot of people.

Fast forward to the middle of November  when a friend asked if I would join her on a trip to Arkansas for something called Flame On. When told that it was for the Christians Motorcyclist Association I had to laugh at the time. Because back then to me it seemed silly, people  who loved motorcycles, God, and wore the leather vests and jackets. Looking back I think the reason I laughed was because it didn’t make sense how bikers could believe in God.

I found myself going on this trip I thought would be pointless. But the moment I walked into the door of the warehouse it was like walking into the presence of God. Yet by societies standards not one of these people looked like a Christian. Tattoos, piercings, stretched ears, and colored hair. Each person with a different background, a different testimony. Some were like me and wanted to end their lives but God brought them back to loving their lives. Some had grown up in unloving homes, or been in an abusive relationship. No matter what they had been through they knew what God’s grace was like.

They had what I wanted. To be close to Christ, to feel His love for us. I thought that I had that given the fact that just the July I had given my life to Christ. But it was made apparent to me that I had not been living like Christ. There on Iron Mountain surrounded by my brothers and sisters in Christ I rededicated my life to Him. Asking him to change my heart, give me a chance to do something good in this life. Show people what God’s love can do. Show people that He loves us and will never lie to us. Because we are His children and He loves us.

Depression

My freshman year of high school I became severely depressed. My grades were low, I felt like nobody noticed me, and I started to not care anymore. I was losing hope. I had come to a conclusion that God must hate me if my life is this bad. I let Satan cloud my thoughts with hate. Soon enough I became so tired and I just got use to feeling useless.

It's hard to see when someone is suffering from depression. Many people are able to hide behind a fake smile, occasional joke, and laughing. But it’s all a mask to hide the pain inside. I always thought that I was hiding the pain. However after I began to become happy with my life again did I realize that i did not hide to so well. A few of my teachers told me how much happier I looked and acted.

Depression is a fight that is something no one should go through alone. God doesn’t want to see us suffer through unneeded sadness. He doesn't want us to feel like we are alone in this battle. But it can be hard to turn to God in a time of heartache and sadness. We want answers to why we feel so horrible, and we don’t want to wait for them. Praying to someone you cannot see is difficult, and can seem completely pointless.

Going through depression and trying to turn to God for help is so difficult. I almost lost my faith because I felt like I was getting nowhere with praying. But with time and trusting God everything eventually got better. No matter what when going through some sort of trail it can seem as if God isn’t listening. It seems as if He isn’t there, but He hears our cries, and wants to help us through the storm. If we keep our eyes on the cross we will know that God will help us through this.

First

Depression, anxiety, suicide, and self-harm. Dealing with any one of these things can be a struggle. It's even worse if you are dealing with more than one at a time. It seems as if these problems don’t exist until one of them happens. But even when they occur we as a society sweep it back under the rug. Because each one is an uncomfortable topic. They bring to light that life is not easy, it's a difficult battle. Some of us fight this battle on our own.

From a Christian point of view we just give the person a verse from the bible, tell them to pray and give it to God. But that's not good enough. Each teenager, each young adult suffering through this needs to be met on their level. Someone who has been where they are at needs to show them how it does get better. I look back to when I was a freshman in highschool when I was going through depression.I always wished someone could have reached me where I was. If you have not been where they are, they more than likely will not listen to you because you don't understand how they feel.

Your words of advice become hollow and useless. If you have not personally dealt with depression,  anxiety, suicidal thoughts, or self-harm the best thing to do when helping someone is saying, “I have no idea of how you feel. I cannot relate, but I will be here when you need someone to listen.” I always hated it when someone would tell me that they understood my pain, yet they had never been where I was at. Never had they looked at suicide as a last resort, so how could they tell me they understood how I felt.

Now, if you have been there. If you know what it’s like to have lost all hope then you can reach them on their level. You have the battle. You will be able to show them that there is hope, a light at the end of the tunnel. The reason is a survivor can share their personal troubles. Helping someone going through this type of pain is a process. Not only do they need to want to get better, but someone needs to be willing to help them.