To Write Love on Her Arms

I've been hearing for the past few years about To Write Love on Her Arms, as I've seen kids at my school show their support, and I've even seen bands in concerts where tee shirts with it plastered across their chests. I didn't really know what it was though. Once I looked into what it was, I gave it my complete support. To Write Love on Her Arms is a non profit movement that is dedicated to presenting hope and finding help for people struggling with depression, addiction, self-injury and suicide. They work to encourage, inform, inspire and to invest directly into treatment and recovery.

Now, a lot of people support organizations like this because they think it's a good idea, but I support this cause because I know how the peoplw who they help feel. Looking back on my life so far, I've struggled with depression for a long time. I started showing signs of depression at a very young age, and by the time I hit high school, depression hit me as hard as it possibly could. At first, it just seemed like I was sad all the time for no reason. After I while I started thinking about what it would be like if I just disappeared. I starting cutting myself my first year of high school. It was my way of venting my anger, frustration and hurt. I didn't see the point in hurting others, so I hurt myself. I didn't want to hurt others. But other people hurt me on a daily basis, whether it was verbal or physical. I figured I must have been doing something wrong. My cutting started out as a form of venting and punishing myself.

It didn't stay as that for long. I didn't realize it at the time, but I developed an addiction to self harm. By the end of grade eight, I don't think a day went by when I didn't cut myself. I had some friends who would check my wrists everyday for new cuts. So I started cutting around my ankles. They made me feel ashamed for what I was doing, so I hid it. My family had no idea what was going on in my life, but they rarely did. My mom found out about my cutting twice in the almost three years where I cut myself on almost a daily basis. And she thinks it only happened those two times. She didn't do anything but get mad at me when she found out.

My cutting got to the point where I felt like I needed it to get through the day. I can't explain it in a way that wouldn't make me sound insane to anyone who hasn't dealt first hand with addiction. I remember talking with one of my teachers about it one day. He was my best friend through my depression, and my councellor. He helped me out a lot. His wife had been watching a program on suicide on night, and got him to watch it with her because she was worried about me, and he knew more about my situation than most people did. According to this program, there are seven steps in which one takes before taking their life. He told me the next day that he had seen me in various stages, and had seen me as close to one step away from actually taking my life. This kind of freaked me out. I mean, I'd attempted suicide many times, but after I failed, I never really thought I'd be able to do it. I still tried though. The choking game, cutting deeper, thinking about jumping off a bridge, taking too many pills.

I would've taken that last step had I not found support in my friends. I got so close a few times, that it terrifies me. I would've missed out on so much. After I decided to stop cutting, (Which took several tries before I was successful), I went for more than a year without cutting, or even thinking of cutting. I've relasped a few times, but I've managed to overcome my addiction. Sometimes when I get depressed, I start thinking that I want it, but than I remind myself of how far I've come, and all the people who worked so hard to support me that I'd be letting down.

I guess my point is, without people supporting them, very few people would be able to overcome their addictions. I know this from experience. I've struggled with addiction, and had no one to help me. And then I found friends who wanted to help me, and I am only alive because of them. Movements like To Write Love on Her Arms are essential if we really want to help those who are hurt, lost, broken and struggling for their lives. If you haven't heard of TWLOHA, I would reccommend that you look up their website.
http://www.twloha.com/vision/

Changes

Change is all around us, and it's always happening. We change a little everyday, whether we realize it or not. Everything we do, and every choice we make changes us a little bit more. If you were to look at a photo of me from grades 8-12, you wouldn't think they were of the same person, I've changed so much. I've changed for the worse at times, and also for the better. In my English class, there are tons of posters on the walls, with various pictures and sayings. One of them caught my attention. It reads as follows:

I am me.

A declaration of self esteem.

In all the world, there is no one else exactly like me

Everything that comes out of me is authentically mine

Because I alone choose it -- I own everything about me

My body, my feelings, my mouth, my voice, all my actions

Whether they be to others or to myself -- I own all my fantasies

My dreams, my hopes, my fears --I own all my triumphs and

Successes, all my failures and mistakes, because I own all of me

I can become intimately aquainted with me -- By so doing

I can love meand be friendly with me in all my parts --I know

There are aspects about myself that puzzle me, and other

Aspects I do not know -- But as long as I am

Friendly and loving to myself, I can courageously

And hopefully look for solutions to the puzzles

And for ways to find out more about me -- However I
look and sound, whatever I say and do, and whatever
I think and feel at a given moment in time is authentically

Me -- If later some parts of how I looked, sounded, thought

And felt turn out to be unfitting, I can discard that which is

Unfitting, keeping the rest, and inventing something new for that

Which I discarded -- I can see, hear, feel, think, say, and do

I have the tools to survive, to be close to others, to be productive

And to make sense and order out of the world of

People and things outside of me -- I own me, and therefore
I can engineer me -- I am me and

I am okay.

--Virginia Satir

Now, the past few months I've been having a lot of trouble with the changes happening in my life. It pretty much started with a hair cut. A hair cut I didn't want. You know when you go to the hair dresser's and they say they'll only cut off an inch, but they end up cutting off like 3 or 4 inches? It was one of those haircuts. I was not expecting it, and I hated it. It took me a while to get over it, but eventually I learned to like it. A few days later, my boyfriend (Now ex), of ten months broke up with me. That was hard because we hung out with the same people, but didn't want to be anywhere near each other. It's a big thing when you go from talking to someone everyday to not at all. Within a month of this, I went on the biggest, most life changing trip I've experienced so far.

Yes, I'm talking yet again about my trip to Mexico. That trip changed me in many ways that I never could have imagined before now, and I'm sure it will continue to change me until I've learned all I can from it, and have a new life changing experience. Now, at fist the changes were along the lines of trying not to judge people, and trying to love everyone I met with God's love.

However, now I've been home for about two months. At first, I felt like I was wasting my life at home when I knew I could be out in the world somewhere, making a difference in someone's life.

Looking back, I realize now that I needed to change my ways, before I'd be able to help anyone anymore. I used to never leave the house without wearing makeup, straightening my hair, and only wearing certain clothes. I was extremely self conscious about how I looked. I hung out with some good people, and some bad people. I let a lot of people just walk all over me. But after coming home from Mexico, and having the time to sit and think about all the things I had learned there, I slowly began to change. I used to want to cover myself in piercings and tattoos.

Now, I've learned to be happy with how I look. I don't dye my hair all the time, I don't wear makeup (It's really bad for your eyes anyway), I wear whatever I feel comfortable, and I just really don't care what other people think of me. I don't want anymore piercings, in fact, I've taken out most of my earrings, and I'm not sure I still want to get a tattoo. From learning to be comfortable with myself, I'm finding it a lot easier to open up to people, be more outgoing, and make new friends, which is something I've never been able to do easily before.

Before going to Mexico, I was so used to having a boyfriend, that I didn't look at guys as anything more than a friend. That helped me a lot, because when I was first in high school, I would wonder what it would be like to date different guys I knew. Weird, I know. Meeting guys who want to be my friend for the sake of being my friend, rather than for the sake of trying to get with me has also helped me a lot lately. One of the things, however, that has come up because of things like this, is the fact that I'm now unsure about whether or not it is okay for me to like a guy as more than a friend. All my friends tell me I like one of my guy friends, but I'm not sure if it's okay for me to. I've been having trouble with that lately. I'm still trying to figure this one out. I've been thinking this may be another change I need to make in my life. Maybe I need to be comfortable with having feelings for someone.

Life's little quirks, it's ups and downs can teach you a lot about things you may need to change in your life, but you have to be listening. I wasn't listening for the longest time, but I am now, and I'm changing for the better. A lot better =)

Walls

When I entered high school, putting up walls to protect myself seemed to be the thing to do. I didn't know many people, and I didn't really fit in with my friends. I was the black sheep of the group, please excuse the cliche. I had a rough childhood. I was bullied a lot, and pushed around. I had been abused in a few different ways. I didn't trust very many people, and it took a while for someone to earn my trust. In order to avoid more abuse when I entered high school, I put up many walls around myself. No body got throught them. Some people think they didn't, but they really didn't.

Those walls worked for me for a while, but after a time it seemed that I was only making things worse for me. I had no real friends, and I needed someone. Because of this I fell into a bad depression, where I suffered for a long time, and struggled with the addiction of self harm. I've been clean from self harm for about a year now, but it doesn't make it any easier sometimes. Lately, with the stress of going back to school, and dealing with my monster of a brother, I've found old feelings are resurfacing. I've begun to think how I used to, and I don't know how to change it. I feel like I'm hanging off the edge of a cliff, but there's no one around to help me.

Most of my friends and family have no idea that this is going on. Heck, most of my family didn't see it the first time it was happening. They knew I was depressed, but they figured it was just teenage angst. I suppose for a time it could've been. But not the whole time. During the darkest part of my depression, I was possessed by a demon. Not like in the movies, where someone would talk in a creepy voice and bend over backwards, or spin their head around. But there was something evil controlling my, because I had let it into my life. Somehow, whether it be through the cutting, the insecurity, or something else, this thing managed to find its way through my maze of walls. I struggled with this things for probably a year. It was miserable. I had made some new friends, and they, along with some of my older friends, managed to help me get rid of the thing.

For the first time in my life, I felt free, like I didn't need the walls. But that didn't last long. Once school started up again, and life got back into its "normal" routine, the walls went right up again. And I've been struggling to knock them down ever since. Not many people have met the real me, and most of who have, haven't met the real me the first time they've met me. Most people have just seen the mask, and not the girl behind the mask. At this particular moment in time, I think there only may be one person who has seen beyond the mask in recent months, but sometimes I wonder if they really see me at all.

I managed to take down my walls for about a week this summer, but soon after that, they started to go back up. I feel like I'm trapped in a prison I built around myself, and there's no way out. These walls that started out as such a good idea have just screwed me over in the end. I'm still working on pulling them down, but it seems like everytime I get one down, another goes up, and it's out of my control.

Pondering...

Today I got the chance to spend some time with a friend I haven't seen all summer. I enjoyed it a lot. We had lunch together, and then walked around town and talked for almost three hours. We both went in different directions at the beginning of summer, her focus being bible camp and my focus being my trip to Mexico. Since then we've both been pondering many ideas we've had in the past. I found it interesting that we had both thoguh about the same things and come to the same conclusions even though we hadn't spoken to each other in two months.

One of the things I've had problems with since returning to Canada was the way people dress here. Normally it isn't a terrible thing, but after going to a country that is extremely conscious about how much skin their ladies show, and coming home to find girls walking around town in bikini tops and short shorts, or other scanty outfits, really makes one think. The conclusion I've come to is, if I wouldn't wear it in Mexico, what makes it okay for me to wear it here? Wearing revealing clothing will still do the same things to the boys here as it would there. The only difference is it's culturally exceptable here.

I am an ambitious girl who loves to dream big. One of my older dreams was to become a clothing designer and design clothing that was stylish and modest. Modest clothing isn't always easy to come by when you want something that you actually like. I mean, I love lounging around in my man jeans and a tee, but sometimes I feel like making myself look more like a lady. It's just how girls are made. I had abandoned this dream, because my father told me it wasn't practical and other people thought it was stupid. Talking with my friend today, she told me she had the same ideas, yet had also abandoned them. Her boyfriend spent the summer telling her that maybe she should go for it.

After talking with my friend about the various other ideas we'd had over the last few years and abandoned, we both started to wonder. Were they really worth abandoning? Or were we on to something? Who knows. Until we figure it all out, we'll be relying on God to direct our paths. That's all I have time for tonight.