Beautiful Chaos

I am the mother of a teenage girl. I know there are others like me. I know somewhere out there, a woman is sitting on her bed staring at nothing and wondering what the hell just happened.
A teenage girl happened.
Last year, for weeks, my chest would get tight when my desk phone rang at work. I would cry on the way home wondering if there would be an ambulance or a cop car in front of my house when I pulled in.
See, I have a cutter. Some of you don't know what that is, it's a form of self medicating. Kids who have a chemical imbalance do it because pain sends endorphins rushing through their system, it's a drug. Cutters are usually bi-polar. You can rail at them and cry all you want. They don't stop. Some of them self medicate with drugs, alcohol, or sex. Pretty soon though, they all start the suicide crap. They write about it on facebook, leave notes in their rooms, threaten you with it when they are in trouble.
Here is this beautiful little person, who used to crawl onto your lap and giggle at the songs you sang them. Who would make you laugh with the way they would say words wrong or phrase things the way only a child can. There they are. They have holes in their skin and scars all over the little body you created and carried inside you. They are horribly mean most of the time and tell you they hate you.
Here's the kicker. It's not really you they hate. You are not alone. I thought I was absolutely alone. I thought I had done something so wrong, what did I do? How does this happen?
This is common. You are not alone. You are not alone. I can't say that enough. You are not alone.
You feel like a failure, and wonder where it went wrong but at the end of the day, it's not really about you after all.
I put my girl on medication, turns out it was the wrong one and it's not really helping. But I will keep trying. I will keep looking at her. I will not turn away and shut my eyes. I love her, in all her beautiful chaos. I love her. We just moved to a new school district and it has been hard on her. But you find a new guidance center and swallow your pride and take her. You ignore the looks you get from the other parents, let them judge. They have no idea. They don't know how it feels to have a child who hates herself enough to give up. Screw them. Let them look. Let them whisper.
I will keep looking at her.