Cutters, sex addicts, alcoholics - even if you learn to control it, it never totally goes away.
About two weeks into her summer, she started telling me she wanted to come home. She didn't want me to talk to her dad about it though. She was worried about hurting his feelings. I was concerned, but I try to respect her wishes.
Sometimes I regret that.
She came home at the end of the summer with literally dozens of new scars, in two rows down her right arm. Easily fifty new marks. And that's not even counting the ones on her legs.
When I asked her how old they were, she said two and three weeks.
I knew she was struggling. I heard it in her voice when she called me. And she called me a lot. Sometimes three or four times a day, even when she was doing stuff.
The thing is, I did end up telling him that she was struggling. I asked him to make sure she took her meds (which he did).
But, according to her, he never noticed or mentioned the new cuts. Which means, in her mind anyway, that he still isn't seeing her.
Several of the times she called me, she told me she just wants to be normal. She thinks her dad would be more present for her if she was. It makes me wonder what he says to her. I worry that he rides her about being normal - or at least about acting normal.
She's a good, smart, caring person. She happens to have crippling social anxiety. It's part of who she is. We're trying to help her deal with it as best she can, but it's not something she can help. She doesn't choose this. It just is. Making her feel even worse about it is counterproductive.
My heart breaks when she tells me how much she hates herself, that she wishes she were someone else. That she wishes she were normal.
My dear, sweet girl - nobody is normal. I hope she understands this, and soon.
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