I never understood cutting. Or really gave it much thought.
In my years as a middle school teacher, if any of the students had actively cut him or herself, I was completely unaware.
Ditto regarding my years as a mother of teens.
Then an adult friend said something to me recently that really took me by surprise.
She had a sibling who had died and the subsequent days were filled with a sort of grief that became somewhat unbearable to her. Family relationships being what they are—and my friend being the driven, faith-filled Catholic gal that she is—started to create a perfect storm of human frailty.
I watched as my friend motored through a variety of emotions that ranged from helplessness to anger and then circled back to logic and reason peppered with charity and kindness. Through it all, my heart carried her burden. It pained me to see her in such anguish.
At one point, exhausted from it all, she quietly said to me, “I see why people cut themselves.”
I had no response. read more>Cheryl Dickow