Failure

There is so much going on around here lately.  Lots of decisions, and changes, and many good things. And then yesterday my whole world was brought to a screeching halt.

One of my kids is cutting.  Her sister saw the marks when they were goofing around and immediately texted me. I flew out of the office, broke many traffic laws on the way home, and tried to figure out how in the hell I was going to handle this.

The thing is, I wasn't surprised. This kid has definitely been through some changes over the last several months.  She went from my glittery pink girly-girl in love with a Disney-made boyband to a too-much eyeliner wearing teen who only wears punk rock t-shirts.  Her friend group completely changed--from kids I liked and whose families I knew well to kids I knew nothing about and didn't particularly like. But those kids won't be going to her high school next year, so I was just holding my breath and trying to wait out the next three months, knowing her friend group would likely change again when she started high school in the fall.

And I had heard her mention cutting--talking about her friends or band members who cut.

I saw a scratch on her arm a few weeks ago--talked to her about it, bought her excuse, and made a mental note to keep an eye on things.  But she wasn't showing signs of depression.  Her grades are great.  She seems happy--actually the happiest of all my kids. I spent virtually all of last weekend with her--she had a solo contest (and qualified for the state competition!), and we did some shopping and celebrating  and watched Grease (her first time and my millionth).

So I wasn't surprised by the text, but I guess I expected it to be superficial teen experimenting. I was shocked by what I saw.  It wasn't a few scratches.  It was scores.  Completely covering her abdomen and upper thighs.  Places I would never see.  And it's obviously been going on for a while.

She immediately 'fessed up. Showed me all the marks.  Told me what she was using (she had 5 utility knives in her room!).

I talked to her, calmly, and mostly kept it together.  Then I sent her to shower and went downstairs and collapsed into sobs.  My child is broken.  I don't know how to fix her.

Once I pulled it together, I started researching. Did she need to immediately go to an inpatient facility or was outpatient therapy sufficient?  I tried calling a counselor that we had seen once before.  Of course, nobody ever answers the fucking phone there (seriously, can you imagine running a practice without a live operator?).  I got a voicemail back hours later saying, "we have a waiting list, if this is an emergency please call 911."  Could you be any more fucking useless? How about a fucking referral?

Meanwhile, I concluded that I did not want to go the route of inpatient therapy and am desperately trying to find a counselor.  But it was too late in the day yesterday to reach anybody and apparently at least 50% of counselors don't work on Fridays.  And all the ones in my town seem to have waiting lists.

I'm working from home today because we're on spring break and I'm not about to leave her unsupervised at this point. I've got all of her electronic devices, trying to figure out a plan for closer monitoring.  I don't want to punish her by taking them away, but I need to control communication with this new friend group, which seems obsessed with suicide and self-harm. (Yes, I have been reading her chats since all this came to light.  Also, we had to get involved when one of her friends was threatening to commit suicide a few weeks ago.) 

I really need to talk to a professional about how to respond appropriately. My irrational side wants to make her change schools and cut off all communication with the outside world.  My rational side knows this is a terrible idea. I am so lost right now.