Truth Deep Within

I don’t understand why people cut. I truly don’t. I’ve read about release, I’ve read about control, I’ve read the articles that theoretically explain why a person would do this to their bodies. Leave all of that aside for the moment - why would they do this to their family? Why would my beloved daughter to this to me? I know it’s not about me - BUT IT IS. It’s her story, and I’m just a supporting character in her narrative. But when you gut the supporting characters over and over, your reader notices. And this is gutting.  Just when I thought we were past the danger mark... months had passed with no cutting... months with no suicide plans. We had just talked with her therapist about fully reintroducing sharps to the house, stepping up from the 3 small knives and single pair of scissors that had been reintroduced so far.  And then 36 hours of depression and she took a paring knife to her arm. They were shallow cuts, but still... new cuts on what was a com...

I wrote the below over a month ago, late in April, before the events that have rocked our world in the last week - or from a different perspective before those events brought greater visibility to a deep wound in our collective psyche that has been festering for decades on centuries. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but my heart... it hurts. She’s better... and the world is crazy. Everything make sense except my perception/reaction. I can’t relax. My heart hurts. I can’t trust she’s breathing when she’s quiet. My brain... she’s on fire. And if something happens to me, no one I know knows enough about tech to find anything I own. Even the things they need. How can I take care of them? How can I be sure they will be okay? Alright... that seems like a normal parent concern. I can’t. No parent can be sure everything’s okay. All I can do is my best. And so it makes sense that I can’t breathe. But seriously, I can’t breathe.... "I can't breathe." How different that phrase...