(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.
