Lydia Part 6: Cutting = Addiction

It was at SHIELD that I got to know my daughter and all that she had been struggling through for the past four years. Lydia had attachment issues and a constant fear of abandonment. Dealing with bullies at school, and wading through severe anxiety daily, cutting had become a regular coping mechanism for her.

Aiming for the lower abdomen, inner thighs, below sock level, they were always out of the general eyesight. No one would ever know.

She was not doing it for attention. It was a way she could make abstract thoughts and fears concrete. It’s how she could process her fear and hurt. And the subsequent release of endorphins ushered this emotional response into addiction. It was the perfect storm.

Addiction

Addiction ran in Lydia’s bio family, and she had a predisposition for it. I hadn’t kept this from her. We were compassionate and honest. Drug and alcohol addiction can change a person, cause them to make decisions they wouldn’t have otherwise made. It was best to steer clear.

Lydia was determined to avoid these things. “I did it, Mom. I said no!” I remember her sharing with me on the way home. Friends provided opportunity. “They said they’d get it for me so you wouldn’t see. I never thought it would be them.” And in the midst of this temptation, she resisted.

Addiction is what drove her birth mom to have to choose adoption. Bio family members died young. She knew that drugs and alcohol had an uncanny effect on the mind, and she determined not to walk that road from a young age.

But cutting was something we had never talked about. I had no clue. When counselors made me face the harsh reality of it all, I wanted to look away. It was too much to take in. How could I not know?

We had always had an open relationship. Lydia could talk to me about anything. Why didn’t she come to me with this? Once again I felt like a failure as a mom. I tended to be reserved, but tears became second nature to me. Without notice, they would fall.

In front of counselors, doctors, even my own child, I would crash. It didn’t help, but I found myself here more often than not. Confused, scared, broken, I was desperate for understanding.

I had to face the fact that it wasn’t about me. No matter how much I was hurting, she was hurting more. I tried not to take it all personally. Lydia wasn’t doing this to me, she was trying to survive herself. Her mind was screaming, and she could think of nothing except what it was trying to tell her. Run. And do anything you must to escape.