Diary of TEENAGE TURMOIL every parent MUST read
What’s fuelling the terrifying rise of young self-harmers? Here, with brutal candour, a woman who’s now recovered describes her ordeal in a...
OVER the past six years, hospital admissions for children who self-harm have more than doubled, recent NHS figures showed. These numbers might shock you, but honestly, they don’t surprise me. Nor do I find it hard to believe that girls are now five times as likely to be admitted as boys.
I’m 22 now, and already my teenage years feel incredibly distant. But for four years, between the ages of 14 and 17, I regularly self-harmed by cutting myself.
And my obsession was fuelled by the ready availability of images, advice and personal stories about self-harm and depression on social media.
Becoming absorbed in this online world made what I was doing seem normal. I posted anonymously, measuring my self-worth on the concerned comments I received; and over time I drove myself into a depression so deep that I even attempted suicide. And all the time, my loving mum had no idea. When I heard about schoolgirl Molly Russell’s suicide at just 14 years old, it sent a shiver through me. Her grieving father has revealed that she looked at posts to do with suicide online, something her family knew nothing about until after her death.
I am incredibly fortunate that for me, ending up in hospital served as a wake-up call. Now I hope my diary of those terrible years will serve as a crucial warning to every parent about how the social media echo chamber can trap young women in an ever-tightening cycle of misery.
There was nothing wrong in my life, not really, when I started self-harming. I lived in Peterborough with my mum, a hospital clerk, and attended a local Academy school. Although my dad wasn’t around much, our lives were happy and stable. I was popular at school and doing well in my studies.
Here’s how I went from a normal teenager to a broken, terrified young woman . . .
SEPTEMBER 2010
A NEW school year. I’ve noticed three of my friends post on social media about hurting themselves. They say it makes them feel better. Lots of strangers comment online, asking if they’re OK .
I’ve talked to them about it, and they’ve shown me scars on their arms and legs. They make it seem normal. Sometimes I get upset or feel really sad, too.
OCTOBER
I HAD a bad day at school — a stupid argument with a friend. Before bed, lying in the bath, I look at my shaving razor and wonder what it would be like to hurt myself.
After a few minutes I deliberately make a small cut on my arm. It hurts, like nicking yourself shaving, and it bleeds a little. I think: ‘Why would anyone do this? It’s horrible!’ But then, as the pain dulls to a gentle throb, I feel strangely calm. It’s hard to explain.
NOVEMBER
I CUT myself again on my lower arm two weeks later. It feels good — but in school the next morning, people notice and ask what I’ve done. They look at me like I’m stupid and I’m horribly embarrassed.
I still want to do it again. But I’ll have to hide it better. Some people at school wrap their arms in bandages, but I cover the cuts with bracelets instead.
MAY 2011
CUTTING gets easier the more I do it. Whenever I feel upset, I’ll disappear into the bathroom and cut myself. There’s no pattern to it: sometimes it’s days apart, sometimes weeks.
Mum has absolutely no idea. We’re close and I wouldn’t lie to her about anything else, but it seems obvious I have to keep this a secret. She hasn’t noticed because, after the first few times, I’ve started cutting on my thighs instead.
One friend cuts herself, too. We’re not exactly egging each other on, but we’ll compare scars, which probably makes us both do it more. I know I should try to stop, and people say talking helps — but when you’re talking to the wrong person, it doesn’t.
Like my friends I’ve had accounts on Facebook and Twitter since I was 11, and recently I found a site called Tumblr, where people post photos.
There are lots of funny posts, but also shocking ones. I’ve seen bleeding wrists, slashed legs and scars. Sometimes I look at them for ages. When I do, I start to shake and have an urge to do it myself.
JULY
I’VE started my own Tumblr blog. It’s anonymous, but when people ask me what’s wrong, it feels like they care. I’m looking at Tumblr every day.
I’ve also started following women who post about their eating habits. I’ve always been slim, but I’m starting to worry because I don’t have jutting hip bones like these girls. I read blogs about depression, too.
The posts make me feel like people understand me — and what I’m doing isn’t that extreme.
OCTOBER
A TEACHER catches sight of old scars on my wrist. I tell her my pet rabbit scratched me — the first thing that comes into my head. She obviously doesn’t believe me and calls me in for a meeting.
At first I keep silent, but she keeps trying and a few meetings later, I admit the truth. She suggests I tell Mum — she says she can’t tell her without my permission — but I don’t, because she’d be so worried.
Then the teacher gets a new job and leaves school, and that’s that. She recommends I see the mental health nurse, but I don’t go.
MARCH 2012
SOMETIMES, just thinking about selfharm makes me want to do it. Other times, I feel a strong need just to see someone else’s scars. I’m spending hours every day on Tumblr, but all my friends use social media all the time, so nobody suspects it’s a problem.
The rest of my life still looks pretty normal: seeing friends, doing homework, reading books.
There are times when I cut myself every night, and other times when I manage not to for two or three months. But then something always happens: a bad day, or a post on Tumblr.
MAY
ON NIGHTS when I’ve hurt myself I sometimes get blood stains on my bedsheets, but I do my own washing so my mum never sees.
Even though I don’t think I was depressed when I started this, I think I am a bit now. I feel like I’ll never amount to anything, never be happy.
It’s my GCSE year, so there’s a lot more academic pressure. Friendships have changed too. Even though I love dance, I’ve dropped it because there’s a group of girls who deliberately make me uncomfortable. I feel like an outsider.
SEPTEMBER 2013
A NEW school year and I’m trying to make a fresh start. I have a new friendship group, and they don’t self-harm. They keep telling me I need to stop.
The funny thing is, I always felt angry at my old friends if I found out they hurt themselves. When it’s someone else, it seems so stupid. But when it’s me I feel differently.
At home, I’m still using social media a lot, but I’ve stopped going on Tumblr. I have a private Twitter account instead.
I’m tweeting about how I feel. I only have about four followers but it makes me feel someone is listening.
DECEMBER
AFTER pressure from my friends I’ve agreed to talk to the school mental health nurse. I find I’m cutting myself less after we speak. But she’s not always available. And then, like before, I find out she’s leaving, to have a baby . . . The only people I can talk to now are on Twitter. I still haven’t told Mum, and there’s been no obvious change in my behaviour to make her suspicious. I’ve got used to hiding everything.
MAY 2014
THIS is very hard to admit: I am in hospital because yesterday I took an overdose. I can’t tell you
exactly why I did it, but I’ve been finding it harder to cope. Yesterday, I had a really, really bad day and everything got too much: my depression, exam pressure, arguments with friends.
After school, I self-harmed. But for the first time, it didn’t make me feel better. It only made me feel numb.
So I wrote a suicide note, took a lot of pills and lay on the floor. Waiting to die. Then something made me snap out of it, and I thought: ‘What am I doing?’ There was a complete turnaround in my mind; afraid, I called out for my mum.
She ran upstairs, called an ambulance and we went to the hospital, where they gave me charcoal to absorb the medication I’d taken and told me I had five minutes to drink it before it would be too late. It was absolutely terrifying. Mum was really shocked, but she stayed calm and was so supportive. I can’t imagine how she must feel. Two of my friends have been to see me. The first thing my new best friend said was: ‘You are an absolute idiot.’ I know she was right, and I am so relieved to be alive. Mum is horrified. She told me it broke her heart that I couldn’t share this pain with her.
THE NEXT DAY
THE hospital is letting me out tomorrow, after a lot of pleading, because I have an A-level exam at 1pm. Mum wants me home although she’s going to ban all tablets from the house.
My friends have brought in revision books and we’re all studying on my hospital bed. I know it doesn’t make sense: why would someone who wanted to die yesterday be worried about an exam?
I’ve heard people say that when someone jumps off a building, on their way down they think of all the ways they could’ve fixed their problems. I think that’s what happened to me. When I took those pills, I finally realised I wanted to stop hurting myself.
AUGUST
I HAVE stopped cutting. Mum is so proud! Unfortunately, I’ve found a new way of relieving my anxieties. I set targets for my weight and keep an eye on what I eat, like eating only a third of meals.
I constantly take pictures of what the scales say and post them on Twitter.
I know it’s not very healthy, but I tell myself I’m eating enough not to become unwell. However, Mum has noticed and is keeping a close eye on me.
The doctor says I’m depressed and I’ve been put on the waiting list for counselling, but I don’t feel sad or down.
JANUARY 2015
I NEVER did have counselling — by the time the appointment came through I felt much better. I slowly started eating more and, partly thanks to Mum hiding the scales, stopped weighing myself.
I don’t want to self-harm, either. After my suicide attempt I realised how dangerous it was.
My friends have been brilliant. Knowing I can tell them the truth has given me the courage to delete my private Twitter account.
I am pushing myself to be around people who make me happy. I’m focusing on my future; finally I can see one.
TODAY
MY TEENAGED self would never have believed her life could be as good as mine today.
I love my job as a writer, I have caring friends who I trust, and I recently got engaged to my boyfriend Sam, an old friend who I started dating two years ago. He works in IT and we live together in Peterborough.
I’m still on social media, but I only follow good accounts now — I’m using it healthily. I’m happy and the urge to self-harm has faded, along with my scars.
But I fear for other girls, who are starting on social media so much younger than I did.
I don’t want anyone else to go through what I did — or worse.