What It Means to Self-Harm

Although cutting is a huge deal, and I agree with everything Jess Krista Merighi says in her article “The Conversation about Self-Harm We’re Not Having” at HelloGiggles, I have to mention, in a lengthy way, that self-harm can mean many different things. Although, I’ve never cut, I have committed acts of self-harm.

When I was thirteen, I had my first run in with depression. I wrote horrible poetry. I remember one line went: “it’s like laughing gas/do you see a smile on face?” Horrible stuff, really. I did feel numb though. I was skinny and never smiled. I started taking diet pills. I felt like I had no control over anything, so I took control of one thing. My mom had lots of different types just lying in the medicine cabinet. She’d stopped taking them. I went from a measly size two to a double zero fairly quickly. I also started binge drinking. As numb as I claimed to feel, I did everything I could to feel more numb. This was my first experience with self-harm.

Eventually, of course, my parents found out that I’d been drinking. They put a stop to it, but I don’t think it occurred to them that it was much more than early teenage rebellion, that I had been the instigator of this behavior within my group of friends. I came out of the depression, but it came back.

It’s sneaky like that, depression. It brings company: anxiety, self-harm, suicidal thoughts.

I’ve no suicide attempts or cut marks, but self harm can be so much more than those outward expressions. I’ve had a lot of unsafe sex. I’ve spent so much more money than I should have or than I had. I’ve pulled my hair until wads came out, bitten my lip until I drew blood, clawed at my skin.

I never told anyone until very recently. I finally admitted it in therapy. Once I said out loud one time, I found the gumption to admit it to other people. I’ve been told that I am borderline BPD, that I have a lot of the traits. Whatever that means, borderline borderline personality disorder. Maybe getting older has helped combat some of my issues. The thing is, the thoughts that someone has while dealing a mental illness are very difficult to admit. One such thought is the one which I truly believe almost everyone who has suffered from any mental illness has had, the one that is the most difficult to admit, “I don’t want to get better. I don’t want to take medicine.” When you’re depressed, even finding the energy to take a pill is more than you have to give. Combine that with the desire to not get better, and you’ve got mental illness.

What’s more difficult to admit are the things that you do while depressed, while anxious, while living with and through mental illness. I feel like it is important to know that self-harm does not always look like cutting. That isn’t to say that cutting is not a serious issue that needs to be dealt with, but it isn’t the only thing that falls under the self-harm umbrella. Cutting, of course, falls into the spectrum, but there are many, many ways for self-harm to manifest, and it is important to be aware that there are many types of self-harm. It is important to know how to spot the signs.There are many forms of self harm, and sadly, these actions often bring on a perverse sense of comfort. Rationally, it doesn’t make any sense; I know that. My point here is this: do tell. I’m not going to say that the diagnosis or self-awareness and work will be easy to deal with. It won’t be. You may find, though, that it is well worth the effort. Usually it is. You may also find that you do things knowingly which will trigger horrible emotions and actions, that you will stop taking your medication, that you’ll give into that feeling of not wanting to be better. Don’t fret; you may always try again.

You aren’t alone.

You feel alone though. You feel empty and numb. People will tell you to think of the good things. I’ve finally told my mother not to remind me of the good things when I am depressed. I had to explain to her that I realize that there are many good things in my life, my wonderful husband and smart, healthy children, my warm home, my jobs that I love. These are all good things. I know it. yet, when I am in the middle of a depressive episode, I feel nothing. It’s debilitating. I think of these things; then, I think of how I feel nothing, and I know it is wrong to feel that way, that I shouldn’t feel that way; then I have a panic attack. My chest hurts. The world stops. My heart pounds. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can’t do anything. My mind races. Finally it will pass, and I’ll cry. After that, I’ll binge watch something on Netflix just to make all else fade away. Or, I’ll sleep.

I’ll put everything off. Sometimes I forget, legitimately. I just completely forget. Other times, I just truly do not care. When I feel this way, I fade into these old habits. And, it takes so much work to not commit acts of self-harm, to not get into arbitrary fights with my husband, to not yell at my kids for being silly kids, to not spend money that we don’t have, to not claw at my own skin. These are the days when death sounds nice.

I’m working on it. I do know this; once you admit that these are your instincts, you’ll find that you truly aren’t alone. You’ll find that you truly aren’t crazy. You’ll find that the self-work I mentioned earlier isn’t as hard as it seems, and when it is difficult, you’ll somehow manage to get through it. So talk to someone. Remember that self-harm comes in a variety of packages, and some of those packages do not leave visible scars. Help is out there; oftentimes, it is where you would least expect it.

Of course, it is always a work in progress. Always. 

6 Things White Folks Can Continue to Do to Support People of Color

I’m new at this. I read these types of articles often, but I feel like there is more to be said. Still even more needs to be done. White folks often have unconscious bias lurking somewhere in the back of their minds. I work regularly to find these biases and dispel them. It is difficult work. I do, however, keep in mind that this work is something that I must do. Just like the work that is simply existing as a person of color in the US and other parts of the world.

1. Don’t let the injustice of the present fade from your news cycle. Although protests are still raging across the country, I have noticed that other news stories are taking the place of stories about injustice and race in my own news cycle. I actively search for these types of stories now. I know that I could easily begin to ignore racial and social injustice as a white person, but I will not allow myself to do this.

I am even willing to admit that it can become mentally fatiguing. When I think, “I’ll take a break for today.” I remind myself that I cannot and should not take that break. People of color simply do not get to take a break from injustice. I will not take a break either. To truly be an ally in any form, white folks must continue to keep these issues on the forefront, always in their heads and encourage other white folks to remember these issues and challenge their own perspectives.

2. Search for news, opinions, and stories from people of color. Check out Colorlines, The Root, Code Switch on NPR, Black Girl Dangerous, Mic, Bitch Magazine, Everyday Feminism, and Racialicious.

It is important to listen to these opinions and become more and more aware of what POC have to say and how they feel. One easy way to do this is to use the internet. Empathy is a skill to cultivate.

3. Do not fall prey to the #NotAll argument. This is a weak argument. Just because “not all cops” are racist jerks doesn’t mean that they are exempt from criticism. What this means is that those cops who are not assholes need to prove it by standing up for POC, by calling out the cops who do otherwise. Just like #NotAllMen changes the conversation and puts the focus on how the men who don’t abuse and rape women feel about being criticized so does this argument. Call out others who try to change the conversation. Tell them how to spot privilege and check privilege.

4. Listen. I’ll admit that when I first encountered #CrimingWhileWhite, I thought it was a good thing. Then I listened and read what POC had to say about it. I also began reading #AliveWhileBlack. Once I’d begun reading and listening to POC’s perspectives, I saw that white folks had good intentions, but that they’d taken over the conversation. Even the most racist of people already know that POC and white folks are treated differently by police officers. Derailing the conversation isn’t helping the movement. Listening and being active, as a white person, in a way that POC support and encourage is important. Also remember that if a person of color says something is offensive, then it is offensive. You cannot decide what is or is not offensive to others. Do not defend your actions. Apologize and adjust your actions accordingly.

5. Don’t change the conversation. #BlackLivesMatter is important just the way it reads. It doesn’t need to be changed. It has been proven over and again that white folks’ lives, opinions, and stories have value. No one is saying that all lives don’t matter. What people are saying is that black lives matter just as much. This needs to be said and heard. Don’t try to co-opt a movement to make yourself more comfortable within it. This isn’t about your comfort.

6. Comfort brings me to my last point. Get out of your comfort zone. Read, listen, and view things that make you uncomfortable. Learn how to make clear, poignant, and direct points about race to other white folks. Start the conversation. Call out racism, even “minor” offenses when you see them happen. Again, this isn't about white folks’ comfort. To bring change we must often be uncomfortable.

10 Non-Fiction Books Every Woman Should Read

After looking over Esquire's The 80 Books Every Man Should Read and The 40 books every woman should read at HelloGiggles, I have decided to compile my own list. I feel like fiction is most certainly a worthy endeavor, and I spend much more of my time reading fiction than non-fiction, but I also feel that women, especially feminists, should take some time to read non-fiction.

Before I begin, let me say that this list is no where near comprehensive. It only includes ten books, for the love of Pete! However, I do think that these are important ones. I am completely open to suggestions on other non-fiction titles women should read. I also realize that if I can only come up to a grand total of ten books that I should probably add some more non-fiction to my list. These are listed in no particular order.

Without further ado, here we go:

1. The World Split Open: How the Modern Women's Movement Changed America by Ruth Rosen. I love this book. Rosen lays out a great history of the modern women's movement that began in the latter half of the 20th century; she also shows just how influential women of color were to beginning a movement that often excludes them now.

2. Ariel Levy's Female Chauvinist Pigs: Women and the Rise of Raunch Culture is an enlightening look at the sexualization of women in pop-culture. It shows the full picture of how men objectify women, of how women objectify other women, and of how women are taught to objectify themselves. Levy calls on women to change how this picture of women works within pop-culture.

3. Feminism is for Everybody: Passionate Politics by bell hooks is a must for any woman. hooks details how feminism is accessible to everyone, why it is still important, and how class, gender, and race, among other issues, are important to the modern movement.

4. Ellen Willis was the first female critic of popular music back in the 1960s. Her voice remains influential to this day. She pioneered with her criticism which is all at once feminist, emotional, and intelligent. She covered artists from Janis to Mitchell and Springsteen to Dylan. This is a wonderful collection of essays edited by her daughter, Nona Willis Aronowitz.

5. Femininity by Susan Brownmiller is a classic piece of feminist literature. I realize that this isn't a new suggestion and that some of the information might be a bit dated at this point, but it is still so very relevant. Brownmiller details the history of how women should...well, be women according to society at large.

6. Elizabeth Wurtzel's Bitch: In Praise of Difficult Women makes my list everytime. Wurtzel has unpacked so much with her work, and I feel like she also does so for many women with this book. She brings so many "difficult women" together in one spot, allows women to be sexual, and bitingly dissects pop-culture.

7. Girl, Interrupted by Susanna Kaysen has to be included. I know, I know - the movie! - ugh. It isn't that great. It is a memoir, which I'm going to loosely call "non-fiction." This book tells the story of Susanna's very quick diagnosis of mental illness in the 1960s and her subsequent stay in a mental hospital. So many women deal with depression, bi-polar disorder, anxiety, and BPD that I feel at least one book of this type needed to make the cut. Kaysen looks at the thin line between sane and insane, and I have to say, this is just a wonderful read. Honorable mention goes to Prozac Nation by Elizabeth Wurtzel which is also a great read.

8. Annie Dillard's Pilgrim at Tinker Creek is hand's down one of the best books I have ever read. I'll admit that this work has nothing to do with feminism, but it has to do with life, all types of life. Dillard tackles the great mystery of life by spending a year studying the nature around her home and at Tinker Creek in Roanoke Valley in Virginia. Once you've read this, I promise you'll never look at the outside world in the same way again.

9. Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting by in American by Barbara Ehrenreich shows poverty and what it means to make ends meet in the U.S. today in this telling work. How could such an influential work not make the list!?

10. The monologue play by Ntozake Shange For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide/When the Rainbow is Enuf is one of the most moving works I've ever read. This technically does not fall under the non-fiction heading, but I'd beg to differ on that front. For plenty of women, this monologue sums up many moments of their lives, and because of that, I am including it as non-fiction. It is simply a rendition of life. Go get it! Also, once again, the movie...not so great. Not horrible but not nearly as profound as the play.

Again, I am very open to suggestions on what else to add and read. I know I still have so much to learn, but hopefully someone will find something new and enlightening on this list.

Unpacking

On Friday my dad's mom, we call her "Granny," took Nora to McDonald's for her birthday and to go pick out a new toy. She turned six. When they got back, Granny told me about something Nora had done while in the Play Place. She said, "There were twin black girls there playing too, and they were just so cute! Nora had a good time playing with them. So far, so good. I mean this is the South; we are white; Granny was born in 1937. We're doing really well here, folks. Then she finished.

She looked up at one point to see Nora not only pick one of these two children up but also to see her reach out and touch her hair. Granny then tries to explain that her hair was tied back on her head. Immediately I think, she shouldn't do that! You can't do that! I know it isn't so horrific. She's six, just turned six. It is all innocent, but we have to start somewhere, and I know that this is the place we're going to begin.

Since Ferguson, there has been a new set of articles on racism, a topic which is still as relevant as ever. It's a topic which was important long before these recent events, but so much has been said of late. One article that I read was 6 Things White Parents Can Do to Raise Racially Conscious Children, over at Everyday Feminism.   One thing mentioned in the article was to talk to your children about race. As a white woman living in a mostly white town in the South, I found this idea a little awkward. I didn't know what I'd say or how to bring it up. Now suddenly, the opportunity fell directly into my lap. 

The next morning after we'd had our coffee and chocolate milk (shame on me), I brought it up. 

I first explained that some white people, like us, were mean to people with other skin colors, like brown. We'd spoken about race before but not so directly pointing to something so external. We talk about different religious views and things like that often, but we've not really spoken about the external too much.  Nora asked, "How are they mean to them?"

So I told her that it wasn't so long ago that white people had owned black people, just like you might own a dog. I also told her that it wasn't so long ago that black people couldn't use the same doors and water fountains as white people, that white people wouldn't let them. I also told her about how black people tend to be treated differently that white people are treated today, right now. She put her head down, clearly guilty. 

I quickly explained that she wasn't in trouble, that she'd behaved innocently, but I also told her that we do our best to be aware of how others feel, and because we try to be aware, it is our job, as white people who often have it easier than people of color to think of how our actions might make others feel. 

I explained that just because the black girls had a different type of hair did not make it my daughter's place to touch her hair.  Hubs jumped in at this point adding, "Rhea, wouldn't you find it strange if someone you had just met came up and asked to borrow your pajamas?" Her eyes widened, and she nodded. 

She then added, "It would be okay if it was Gabby though." Gabby is her "best friend." We both agreed that that is exactly how it works. It is okay to ask a close friend things you might not ask a stranger as long as you always realize that just because a close friend has a different pair of pajamas doesn't make that person an object or lesser than you. 

Hubs also explained that some white kids might not want to play with kids of color just because they don't look the same. He also added, "Some day a group of boys may tell you that you can't play with them because you're a girl!" This really got to Nora. She looked angry instantly. 

He then added, "It is your job to make sure that you treat all people nicely regardless of whether or not they look different than you look or act differently than you act. We have to make sure to respect how other people might feel and how some things might make another person feel weird or bad that wouldn't make us feel that way."

I've thought about this conversation often during the past few days. We're trying. I know that raising kids to be "color blind" is only going to make the problems people of color are facing worse. Ignoring something certainly doesn't make it disappear.  Later in the day, I asked Nora if she had any questions about the conversation we'd had earlier. She said, "Yeah... Why are people mean to black people?" I had to think about it. Finally, I said, "You know what, I don't have a good answer. There isn't a good answer. Let's just be sure that we are respecting how others might feel and always treating everyone the same as we'd like to be treated." She nodded. 

This conversation has continued to weigh on me. I think of the many articles I've read about having "the talk" as black parents, and not the one about the birds and the bees. 

I recounted this conversation to a friend, and she asked me why I'd place that sort of burden on my child, acting far more awkward about it than my daughter had acted. The question was meant to be rhetorical, and I let it lie and left shortly after. I thought about it though. Then I realized...white privilege. Shit. White privilege.

I hadn't thought about it like this before, but trying to teach my child about racism and empathy and how to respect others is what some people would consider as a parent wrongly “burdening” a child.
Black parents don't get that luxury. This conversation that I'd perceived as difficult must sound like a walk in the park on a sunny day to a parent of a black child. Black parents don't have the choice. They must teach their children about racism and how to deal with it and how not to get beaten or shot. They have to teach their children to hold their anger, sadness, and frustration in until they reach a safe place to let it all out. I am trying to teach my child to spot inequality, feel anger, sadness, and frustration and point it out. Now that's a luxury.

I also realize that I'm only guessing. I'm guessing that my married, black co-workers must fret each time their husbands step out of house; they must feel so much anxiety each time they take their kids for a walk. I don't know how it feels. I never will know how it feels. What I do know is that I don't take it lightly that other people have to deal with these things every day. And part of the way that I want to help is by teaching my children to not take these injustices lightly either.  If I truly want to unpack the invisible knapsack, then I need to do what I can to unpack my own privilege and teach my children to unpack their own.