I hate to say “I told you So…”

Well, I hate to say I told you so…….

Whilst out with her friends this afternoon, her phone got smashed. This is distressing for any young person given their dependence on them (I shall write about social media separately!), but this event has caused a complete melt down. In fact, melt down makes it sound too “normal”: it has highlighted the fact that every event is too much to bear. Lizzie’s anxiety is now so high she can’t interact with any of us. She asked to talk to me privately and then spent 10 minutes yelling about how I don’t understand; how nothing is ever going to get better and how she just wants to die.

So, I listen, I tell her it will get better and I try and offer solutions to the current situation. Nope. Not good enough. I am not suicidal so how can I even comprehend. She is angry that I always try to be so positive, that I won’t simply accept that her death is inevitable. I looked at this beloved child of mine, who was yelling at me about how I was failing and I shouted that I am doing my best….then I crucified myself for shouting. What my baby doesn’t understand is that I can never give up on her; I will never give up hope that we can fix this, that she can live a happy and fulfilled life. I can’t just allow her to give up because that gives her permission to go: that is never going to happen. But a part of me constantly fears where we are heading.

She has retreated to the bathroom…her safe place. It is here she can lock the door and self harm. I have come to accept her self harm: it is her outlet, her way of coping & of controlling the depth of emotion she cannot handle in any other way. All the “experts” have told us to never try and stop her: we must encourage her when she does not self harm but we must not frown on it when she does, just ensure she keeps her cuts clean and that she is safe. My beautiful little girl is now covered in deep scars all over her arms, and god knows where else, and it breaks my heart to see them every day. So, although the outcome shatters me just a little bit more, whilst she is in the bathroom, I know she has some kind of outlet, an outlet we can’t provide.