Remember Me?

The following post was drafted in 2014. A lot has happened since then. 

Are you surprised? 

Yeah, me neither. 

Maybe I'll find the focus to catch you up on the last 5 years. In the meantime, this will have to suffice as I am exhausted from trying to recall email addresses and passwords associated with this blog.

***
I have no idea where the past year has gone.

They say time flies when you are having fun. But I wouldn't exactly call the last 12 months... FUN. It's been a challenging adventure for sure, and shows no signs of letting up.

Let's play catch up...

Cinderella is now 17 and a senior in high school. She was hospitalized a third time over the Christmas holiday, at her request... vis a vis a note which I found on my desk one Friday morning after she had already left for school:

I immediately texted her at school. She was ok. She was grateful and relieved to know that she had been heard and I had her back...as I always have. We would talk more when she came home after school.

I called the National Suicide Hotline.
I called her therapist.
I called Prince Charming.

All agreed she was not in any immediate danger. The note was her way of opening a dialogue. And talk, we did. I asked all the usual questions: How long have you felt this way? What triggered it? What have you been doing to cope? Did it come up in your weekly sessions with your therapist?

She felt she needed to go back into the hospital. Spending the weekend with Prince Charming was important so she could go shopping for gifts for her family. It was a week before Christmas. She knew she would spend it in the hospital so she wanted to make sure her gifts would be under our trees.

Her hospital stay was an absolute CLUSTERFUCK of mismanagement by an inexperienced social worker who was put in charge of her case.  In the interest of brevity I'll spare you the details other than to say there were MANY phone calls between myself, Prince Charming, the social worker and Director of the hospital to thwart an early discharge the day AFTER Christmas. There may have been some yelling involved. And a letter. And numerous apologies from Administrative staff assuring us that while there were no do-overs for Cinderella, steps would be taken to ensure this doesn't happen again to another family.

Cinderella spent two weeks in the hospital, and another two weeks in a day program in an effort to solidify the skills she had learned and give her greater chances for a success re-entry back into normal life. In the months following, she has stumbled a bit. And recovered. And stumbled a bit more. But I am happy to report amidst the minor setbacks she has successfully ended a toxic relationship, attended an event for accepted students to one of her chosen colleges and registered for classes/inquired about housing/researched financial aid all on her own (well, ok that involved some gentle pushing on my part) and has maintained an 80+ average in ALL of her classes.

Yes, I am proud.

(And yes, I still sleep with all of the OTC drugs, razors and knives in my bedroom.)

A New Normal?

Cinderella is home (YAY!)...with bright shiny new meds and a 60 year old psychiatrist with tattoos, piercings and gauges in his ears (Eww...but, KEWL!).

My butterfly has now faded and I am hopeful that I won't have to draw another one.

(HOWEVER, I am considering getting one TATTOO'd on my arm for her. I owe her a tattoo after getting an ambigram for her brother and sister after Prince Charming and I separated, and the symbolism of TRANSFORMATION seems fitting.)

In the meantime, I have hidden all of the Tylenol, Advil, cold medications and razors in the house.

This is normal, right? A new normal that the parent of a suicidal teen should expect?

And...MORE IMPORTANTLY...these fears will fade.

RIGHT?

The Butterfly Project

Last week, I drew a butterfly on my arm in support of Cinderella, courtesy of The Butterfly Project.

While it may not have stopped her from cutting THIS TIME, I believe it did reinforce the message of my unwavering support of her struggles...which is what ultimately allowed her to confide that she tried to commit suicide days earlier. And why she was brave enough to tell me that SHE NEEDED HELP and wanted to be hospitalized because she felt she was at risk of harming herself even more.

There is no ONE solution to the issues of teen depression, suicide and self-harming behaviors. The Butterfly Project is just one resource. All we can do as parents is to remain diligent in our research, finding new ways of educating ourselves and our teens, loving them IN SPITE OF their struggles. Of helping them to take flight ABOVE their challenges.

If you, or someone you know, is carving, scratching or cutting to cope with their INTERNAL pain... please know there is support and help available. Or you could try calling an information only line at 1-800-DONT-CUT.

And then maybe, draw a butterfly or two on your own arm as a show of support.

Slaying the Dragon

We're our own dragons as well as our own heroes, and we have to rescue ourselves from ourselves. -Tom Robbins

I could attempt to write a more eloquent blog post, but there is no poetic way of discussing depression, self-mutilation and attempted suicide in teens.

None.

Cinderella is back in the hospital, people.

She's struggling as so many teens (and adults) do. Trying to slay her own dragons. These dragons have resulted in two failed attempts at OD'ing  in the last week and NEW battle wounds along her arms and legs.

In the past four months since moving in with me, there is NO DOUBT that Cinderella has grown stronger. So much stronger than she was here and here. I'm infinitely proud of my big girl - of her strength, her grace and her hard-earned wisdom about life. I've tried reminding her that she's not alone and make a home for her where she can feel safe to just... BE.

But it's just not enough. Not yet. Not completely. The dragons keep telling Cinderella LIES. Lies that have her believing she's not worthy and unlovable and carving her own scarlet letters of self-loathing into her beautiful skin.

Cinderella is in a safe place now where she can gain even more strength to slay her dragons and rescue herself FROM herself. While driving home from visiting her last night, this song came on the radio...it's sort of become the soundtrack to this new chapter in our fairytale...it's so poignantly PERFECT:

I have no doubt that she will make it. I have to believe that, for the alternative is...well, NOT AN OPTION. Not in this fairytale.

In the meantime, I continue to surround her with love, encouragement, positive thinking and reminders that she is NOT ALONE. She and I are so very blessed to have friends who love her as much as I do and who do amazing things like devote a blog post to her. Please read it, and then follow the links to The Blogess' post on National Suicide Prevention Day. And then, please, SHARE IT so we can help others to slay their own dragons.

If you, or someone you know is in need of help, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255). And visit the National Council for Suicide Prevention for additional resources.

Cutting to the Chase (Part III)

(Continued from Part II)

What is it about the mention of the police that sends you into a panic?
What did the police want? Were they going to arrest her? Lock Cinderella away for her own good?
SIL needed to know where Cinderella's therapy appointment was. The name of LCSW, her phone number, office location.
(How they did not know this is beyond me. She's only been LIVING WITH THEM since January!)
I ask to speak with the officer and provide him with all of the details need to track Cinderella down.
Then I call my friend, LCSW and then Prince Charming to fill them in.
What is she fucking stupid???
PrinceCharming's reaction is less about Cinderella's behavior and more about his own insecurities over how to parent from a distance while still recovering from Traumatic Brain Injury.
It doesn't not surprise me.
She's just looking for attention!
Yes. Yes she is. Of course she is.
I remind him of a night not that long ago when I received a suicidal text from him.
"Would you have liked it if I told you to knock it off and stop looking for attention?"
He got my point. In his silence I knew he was recalling my empathetic ear that night. How I talked him in from the proverbial ledge and helped him see things a little clearer.
Cinderella needed that same kind of empathy and guidance now.
We knew she was ok. 
She was doing what teens do best...complaining in an over-the-top melodramatic fashion to a friend.
Only this time her complaints triggered a domino effect that she could not have anticipated.
Out of concern, her friend reported her "threat" to a school guidance counselor, who in turn notified the school Psychologist who then contacted the local police.
Once again, valid or not, this is the reality we were given, and it was met with the only response that made sense.
LCSW contacted the state troopers as soon as Cinderella arrived for her appointment to assure them she was safe and sound, in one piece, and very much ALIVE.
Prince Charming hopped a train that night to head back up to his parents' house so he and Cinderella could figure out next steps.
Two days later, Cinderella was admitted into a psychiatric hospital.
Safe within the walls of this sanctuary, she would undergo intensive group and private therapies for two weeks. She would finally get that psych evaluation LCSW asked for two months prior and was prescribed Zoloft to ease her anxiety.
Her visitors were restricted. Based on her initial intake interviews, the hospital staff determined that her mother was 70% to blame for Cinderella's emotional stress, and that it would be in her best interest to not have any contact with Maleficent while undergoing treatment. Her father, myself and her grandparents were the only people allowed to call or visit.
The night before she was admitted and for close to a week following, PrinceCharming tried contacting Maleficent to let her know what was happening with their daughter. True to form, Maleficent refused to answer or return Prince Charming's calls. Instead, opting to call Cinderella's school daily to see if she was in attendance.
Ultimately, at my urging, PrinceCharming left the details of Cinderella's hospitalization in a voicemail.
I mean, why would he want to force a phone conversation with her anyway?
That weekend, Prince Charming and I visited Cinderella.
Together we let her know she has a support system in us. That we loved her and were proud of her bravery.
By the time she was discharged, Cinderella was stronger. She had begun to learn valuable tools on how to stand up to her mother and those around her.
She learned that her feelings matter. That she has a voice and it deserves to be heard.
She learned radical acceptance - that she can't change the behaviors of those around her, but that she can change her reactions to them.
A lesson that I learned along my own personal journey as her WickedStepmom.
Unlike me, she was learning these lessons much sooner.

And somewhere along the lines, in finding her voice, she's expressed her wishes to live with me once again.
Though, not to Maleficent...who is planning to try and get custody of her (yet again).

Cutting to the Chase (Part II)

(Continued from Part I)

The revelation of Cinderella's cutting behaviors was shocking to say the least.
At first I didn't want to believe it.
"Are you sure? I've never seen any evidence of it...how can this be?"
I was a SAHM for fuck's sake! How did I not see this?????
PrinceCharming's reaction was similar.
She's just looking for attention.
Maybe.
Maybe not.
Nevertheless it was out in the open now. To whatever extent she was doing it, she was now talking about it openly and asking for help.
This was the reality we were presented with, so this is what we had to respond to.
LCSW was reluctant to take her on as a client because she didn't have many "cutters" in her practice, but made an exception in our case.
Cinderella promised to commit herself to the therapy process and not to hurt herself.
PrinceCharming promised to get to her in for a Psych eval so she could be put on some meds to lessen her anxiety.
For two months, I dutifully took Cinderella to every appointment. She liked LCSW. She opened up to her and spoke honestly about her worries, her feelings towards her Mom and her experiences while living there, her grandparents... how she feels like a burden.
Unwanted & Unloved.
Daddy didn't want me.
Mommy couldn't handle me.
Now Grandma and Grandpa make me feel like a burden.
I don't know if it was because I was now aware that she was cutting, or because now that she admitted it she wasn't trying so hard to hide it from us, but Cinderella's scars and scabs suddenly became blatently obvious.
Red, angry lines across her forearms. Deep scabs on her knees and her thighs began appearing in greater numbers.
It was like her inner pain began to take on a life of its own and was forcefully trying to claw and scratch itself OUT from within the deep recesses of her psyche.
Her unhappiness was bubbling up to the surface. Feelings that she had been stuffing for so many years were being acknowledged, exposed and dealt with.
It overwhelmed her.
Then... I got the phone call.

Wicked, it's SIL...is Cinderella with you?

"No. But she's on her way to her therapy appointment."
My mother was having surgery that day, so I was unable to drive Cinderella to her weekly therapy appointment that week.  I asked a friend to take care of it for me.
SIL's voice is high-pitched and panicky.
Something was wrong.
Then, she tells me...

Well it's really important that I know where she is. Cinderella told a friend at school today that she wanted to kill herself. The state troopers are here looking for her.

It had been about an hour since my friend texted that he was on his way to pick Cinderella up.
An hour since I had any confirmation that this day would be like any other normal therapy day.