Healing Self-Injury

Lately I’ve been hearing from people that they feel alone, misunderstood, and isolated because those around them are so reactive to their self-injury. I think most of us have experienced this at some point, no? Some of us are ashamed of our need for SIV, others proud and protective, some simply accepting of it. Living with SIV challenges many relationships, including that which we have with ourselves. And it often challenges our relationships with others intensely.

Relationships with other people can be difficult when they learn about SIV. I am incredibly fortunate as I have many deep and delightful friendships with people who do not judge my scars. Yet true friendships take time and mutuality to evolve, and not all are wanting to do this when they meet a scarred person. Yet there are all sorts of relationships. On a recent conference call, when I was answering questions about SIV, we shifted into an excited conversation about the powerful healing influence many of us have experienced from relationships with companion animals. This is one of my favorite topics to talk about and it turns out that there were quite a few people like me on the call. We talked about how cats, dogs, birds, horses, and other animals provide us with an opportunity to connect with a living being that does not judge, that responds to us with sincerity, and that we are responsible for tending to. I’ve learned a great deal about who I am, and who I want to become, from life with my dogs and cats and, the past 5 months, my horse. I have learned about power, responsibility, vulnerability, tenderness, trust, living in the moment, taking risks, and having fun (I used to be much too serious). They have all been catalysts of healing for me, in ways that no clinical intervention could begin to touch. I have changed in my depths, and these relationships have challenged me to grow in the relationships I have with my own kind, humans. I wonder if this is true for you as well?

I caught my eyes filling with tears on my way to the barn this morning to tend to the horses. Not tears of sorrow, but of tender overwhelm. The horses have taught me so much, and challenged me to risk and grow in many new ways. They may be huge in size, but they are prey animals, not predators, and so they know fear. And they know trust. And I have learned deeper levels of calm and understanding and attentiveness from them. These are qualities I am learning to apply in other places as well, most importantly with myself and the people around me. For now it is time to walk the dogs, then play with the cats, and spend the evening with dear friends. All of whom celebrate this healing journey with me. None of whom look twice at my scars. I hope this blog is such a place of acceptance too.

Ah, finally liking this computer again.  The past weeks, actually months, have been full of frustration for me as I’ve experienced computer glitches.  Then a crash.  A big one.  Oops.  So, for anyone who has e-mailed me in the past few months and hasn’t heard back, please try again (my home e-mail is rutamaz@eohio.net).  My ISP is a small local company and could not give me access to my old e-mail from a remote computer.  I had to wait and hope this computer could be fixed.

And it has been, so I am excited about being back in touch (in the next few days please look at the web site, as there will be new postings of prose and poetry, really wonderful stuff).   I am not all that comfortable with computers or the internet as a whole.  Some of my problem is that I’m intimidated about learning computer skills.  Most of my problem is that, most often, I’d rather be cooking for friends, walking dogs, hiking in the woods, or even shoveling out my horse’s stall…

Recently a friend challenged me to get more interested in the internet and explore what is out there regarding SIV.  I haven’t begun to do this whole-heartedly yet (my challenge is that I have dial-up access, which is very slow), but I’m interested in learning about what is out there.  I’ve previously explored clinical sites that discussed “self-mutilation” and didn’t find much different than what I had seen in books or articles.  But what my friend told me about was the existence of “pro-cutting” web sites.  Have you found these?  What are your experiences and thoughts about this?

I’m wondering if the misunderstanding and intense efforts to control those who feel the need to self-injure has brought about a protective reaction is some folks who live with SIV.  I neither argue for nor against SIV, to me it “just is.”  Therefore, SIV can be understood and we can create opportunities for people to heal from needing SIV, if they want to.  I’ve certainly read a whole lot about how “horrid” and “pathological” SIV is and have written many times about how many coercive psychiatric practices, as well as bigotry and misinformation in the general public, have caused great harm.

But the idea of promoting SIV is a new concept to me and I am interested in what people are thinking and believing.  Is this a celebration of SIV?  Is this a way of finding comfort with people who understand?  Where can I learn more?  Anyone out there want to let me know what they think?  I’d appreciate hearing from you!

Since the last post was an expose of some of the worst that is written about people who live with SIV, I thought I’d balance it by writing to you about my most beloved resources.  I’ve made the mistake of presuming that everyone is aware that these exist, but it’s been a long time since I’ve mentioned them.
There are two publications that I always recommend to people who ask me for resources.   The first one is a book, Self-Injury: Psychotherapy with People Who Engage in Self-Inflicted Violence, written by Robin Connors (copyright 2000 by Jason Aronson).  I know, it sounds like a boring clinical text.  It is meant for clinicians, but it is not boring and I think anyone and everyone should read it.  Robin Connors approaches the topic of SIV in the kindest and wisest way of any clinician I have ever met or read.  She explores the reasons people turn to SIV, how it serves them, and how to create connections that promote healing.  Not only does she not promote coercion, she advocates against it.  She explores the power of emotions, the impact of trauma, and the centrality of relationship in the healing process.  Not only is the content rich and filled with understanding and hope, but her writing style is warm and inviting.  For example, one of her subtitles is: “Presence as the Heart of Intervention.”  This book is primarily an example of the healing potential that can occur in relationships between people who live with SIV and clinicians who are willing to treat us with dignity, understanding, mutuality and support.  It is a thick book, over 400 pages long, and written for clinicians, yet I think it can serve everyone.  People living with SIV will feel understood and validated.  People looking for helpful therapy can find an example of how it can look here.  Clinicians can find remarkable guidance and wisdom.  Family members and friends of those who self-injure can gain understanding and awareness for themselves in the chapters that address the challenges therapists face when working with folks who self-injure.  I wish this book was available in every library and that it was required reading for anyone in a helping profession.  It recently came out in paperback, so I hope it is less expensive than it used to be (though I must admit I’d never regret spending a good chunk of money to get it).

For those not interested in such a thick text, and especially for folks looking for solutions for their own SIV, I recommend another publication, Understanding Self-Injury: a workbook for adults.  Co-authored by Kristy Trautmann and Robin Connors, the second edition was published in 2004 by Pittsburgh Action Against Rape (PAAR, 81 South 19th St., Pittsburgh, PA 15203).  This 63 page workbook is the most useful “self-help” resource I’ve found.  It helps people living with SIV explore the reasons for their SIV and discover alternatives to self-injury in a very respectful and encouraging way.  The authors acknowledge that SIV does not simply go away, and focus more on self-understanding rather than “making SIV stop.”  They help people feel understood and validated wherever they may be.  I think this manual is a wonderful resource for people of any age and would be helpful for anyone interested in the topic as well.

So, here are two resources I find very hopeful and encouraging.  Are any of you familiar with them?  What do you think?  Other resources we should be talking about?

I recently read an e-mail from a beloved colleague that I must share with you. Recently I’ve been saying that I sense a shift in understanding about SIV, that perhaps people who live with self-injury will no longer be so demonized. Well, I’ve learned that I am, once again, a bit too optimistic. The article she sent me to read verified this.

This article, which came out in the Times on line (United Kingdom) on Dec. 16th, 2009 contained the quote in the heading of this post. This quote was deep in the belly of the article which was focused on women as perpetrators. At best this article intended to point out that women, and not only men, can be predators of children. The author suggested that this is apparently a new concept to many, including those in the criminal justice and mental health professions. So I thought this might be a useful piece.

I was wrong. Instead of looking at the impact of childhood trauma through the lenses of victims as well as predators, considering boys and girls as well as men and women, the author vilified women. And, most upsettingly to me, she vilified women who self-injure. So now women living with SIV (women labeled anorexic were inc luded in the description of self-harm as well) can be presumed to be predators, and also have their SIV interpreted for them, as “sexualized acts of aggression.”
What a damaging and cruel thing to say, especially as the person saying this is a therapist. Here we go again. People living with SIV have long lived under the curse of being labeled “borderline” and I didn’t think there was a worse label than that. But perhaps this tops it. What do you think?

How to survive and create healing environments when so many consider people living with SIV as deviant and potentially dangerous? How to challenge this brutal stigma? How do we find compassion for ourselves and each other?
We can keep finding each other, and supportive people in our lives (whether they have lived with SIV or not) and we can learn that we are survivors, that we are strong, and that we are capable of enormous courage and kindness. We can be living examples that we are not what someone else has judged us to be. We can continue to connect through our words, our art, and our presence here and on the web site and in our homes and communities….. until the change that we can imagine will come true.

My life has shifted radically in these past few months, and one of the consequences of these intense changes has been my work here.  I’ve been feeling ashamed of my broken promise to you – the one I wrote saying I would post often and bring much more material to the web site.

A promise broken never sits right, but can be a wise teacher.  I’ve learned from my shame.  I’ve learned that guilt, not shame, might be the more authentic response to this broken promise.  My intention was valid, the ability was not there.  Ah, learning about limitations.

I’ve become aware of a limitation I put on myself about this blog.  I’ve been restricting my writing here.  I want more freedom now, to explore this topic of SIV and healing from a wider perspective.  So here’s my attempt to do just that.  I want to describe the past few months to you, what I’ve learned about healing, and see if this is of any interest to you…

So often discussion about SIV is limited to “how you stop SIV.”  Sometimes there is room for understanding the purpose of SIV, the reasons people need to self-injure in the first place, and how healing is a process not an elimination of a specific behavior.  These are useful conversations.  Yet when someone is living with SIV often the SIV becomes a focal point of their lives, or of those around them.  We miss the other aspects of ourselves and each other when we focus too narrowly on the SIV.

Yet SIV is a small part of who we are.   Even in the midst of our greatest pain and struggle, we are more than pain and struggle.  Truly.  Recently I’ve been asking people about their passions and their dreams.  And I’ve been recognizing how my passions and dreams have fueled not only my survival but also my healing, and have led to a joyous life.

My passions got in the way of my writing here, so I want to tell you about them.  I have been immersed in changes these past few months, changes that reflect directly on my passions.  Two of them are sports and animals.  Sports were not only a means of surviving deep pain and struggle throughout my life, they also have been an avenue to experience challenge, success, growth, joy and energy.  Animals, to say it simply, are magical to me.  Interacting with them brings rich color to my life.

So what about the past months and my passions?  Years of athletic competition have led me to need a second knee surgery, and it was quite an adventure to find a surgeon who was willing to give me hope.  I avoid medical care, for various reasons, so this was a great challenge for me.  Yet the risks were worth taking and I am now 5 weeks post-op and looking forward to returning to my favorite sports as I’ve been given yet another chance to heal myself.  It may seem silly for a 51 year old woman to look forward to soccer and endurance running, but I am incredibly happy.

I also found a wonderful home for my fourth rescue dog.  I have three dogs and three cats in my cabin and it is full.  But I couldn’t keep myself from adopting another dog when I learned it was scheduled for execution (that was the same scenario for the other dogs too – I tend to adopt the ones that others think can’t be healed).  It is no surprise to people who know me that I cannot act when a person or animal is deemed worthless and unlovable because of their behavior.  So now Sea, the pit bull who was supposed to have died a few months ago, is snoring on the couch in her new home, at peace with her new family which includes other dogs and children.

Yet where I am writing this today is not from my own couch.  I am sitting on several bales of hay, listening to two horses chew their breakfast grain.  One of these horses is mine.  I live in a small cabin with little land, have a meager income…. and still rescued a horse.  A dear friend and I were told that a local riding camp had a horse that had gone lame and was very underweight.  He would not ever be able to be ridden all day, so they decided not to tend to him and retire him, but to shoot him.  Because he was a bit lame.  Not as lame as me!

It has been an amazing and spectacular journey these past two months, and I have met many generous and kind people who helped us find a temporary home for our thoroughbred named “Pocket.”  He is no longer lame, and is putting on weight.  Most importantly he is not dead.  He is beautiful and is brining me great peace just by his presence.  My cabin is a mess, phone calls unmade, work left undone… I’ve been spending hours each day in the barn with him and his new companion horse.

Acting on these passions has given me unpredictable joy as well as challenge.  It has helped me heal the events of my life that led to the need for SIV years ago.  It made me realize that if we chase after our dreams we can heal many wounded places indirectly, and that our passions can sustain us during the most difficult of times.  Does this make sense to you?

So, enough from me for now.  I am off to find the pitchfork as there is manure to clean up.  I hope that you find this interesting and that you are willing to write and share your thoughts and experiences.   And, once again, forgive me for my broken promise.

An amazing project began in a most unexpected way, the day I met Nick Kline at a traditional mental health meeting.    He was there to creatively photograph the proceedings; I was there to speak on self-inflicted violence.  I was thrilled by the presence of an artist in our midst.  He was moved by what I had to teach about trauma, self-injury, and how the mental health system Is, hopefully, changing to better meet the needs of the people it is supposed to be serve.  So began an unexpected and joyful collaboration.  Helga Luest, of Witness Justice (witness justice.org), organized us as we began to collaborate on a brilliant idea.  Nick wanted to have his art students at Rutgers-Newark to take on the challenge of creating a glass book on the topic of SIV.  I was mesmerized by the idea.

The art students received a stack of The Cutting Edge newsletters and other info.  I had the opportunity to dialogue with them via e-mail.  Then they created their books and I had the privilege of going out to Rutgers the day of the critique.  The books blew me away, they were much more profound than anything I could have imagined and I had high expectation to begin with.  The words of people living with SIV touched the hearts and souls of these students and their books reflected that.  I had tears in my eyes for hours, and even get teary writing this.  The books are so moving.

I haven’t written about the books before as I was waiting for the web site on the project to go online.  Well, it’s up!  Please check out glassbookproject. org and let me know what you think.  The collection has traveled to some conferences and we hope to take it to many many places as people who see the books are deeply touched and begin to understand those of us who have lived with SIV in a very different way.

Ii have been waiting to tell you about this and am eager to hear your reactions!

Recently I watched the TV show “Intervention.” The focus was a young woman named Danielle who was struggling greatly with drug addiction. In the midst of telling her story and giving the viewer a sense of her struggle with drugs it was also mentioned that she cut and burned herself at times. That caught my attention. What kept my attention was the discussion, by her family, that her SIV was a form of manipulation. Danielle talked about burning herself to cope with guilt and anger towards herself and others, but her family focused on manipulation as the reason. Her father even said that it was the “worst problem” she had. Really? Minor cigarette burns are more frightening than taking up to 50 Percocet and many other drugs a day? While the show followed her through the throes of addiction, an intervention to get her into treatment for substance abuse, and a bit of her recovery, SIV was never mentioned again. The viewer was left not knowing any more about her life with SIV. It saddened and intrigued me that SIV was portrayed in this way. While this program might have sensitized the viewer to the pain (and traumatic antecedents) of substance abuse, it promoted the idea of SIV as simplistic manipulation. This does not inspire sensitivity, it creates judgment and a false sense of understanding.

The whole idea that people cut, burn and beat themselves to simply get attention or to manipulate others is not going away very readily. It is a belief that has a long history and is entrenched in many people’s minds, whether they are mental health professionals or friends and family members. It is something that seems to be readily assumed to be true so that people can distance themselves from the person living with SIV and not have to hear any more.

If people were to understand SIV, rather than react to it, the beliefs about “manipulation” would change. SIV meets a need for someone who lives with it. If someone needs to have their pain be visible, to be known, the only way they might know how to do this is to cut themselves. Are they manipulating someone to understand them by cutting themselves? No, they are trying to meet a need in the way that they know. The method might be indirect; if it could be direct, if someone could say “please bear witness to my pain,” then that person might not need SIV. Yet who of us is highly skilled in meeting our own needs? How did we learn to do this? How do we learn to understand the things that we and others do in a way that supports understanding and promotes healing? Not through presumptions nor blame. Let me know what you think about this and, in the meantime, I’ll get started on writing a piece about a recent project, the Glass Book Project, that has me dancing with excitement.

I’ve been re-reading one of my favorite books lately, Rachel Naomi Remen, M.D.’s My Grandfather’s Blessings: Stories of Strength, Refuge, and Belonging. There are few books I read more than once.  After all, I have large stacks of “to be read” books scattered throughout my cabin.  Yet lately I‘ve been relishing the rereading of this one and want to tell you about it and gather your thoughts as well.

Through her many stories, Rachel Remen teaches me about healing.  Much of what she has to say, regardless of the person or the illness that the writing is about, touches me tenderly.  In sharing some of her words with you, I wonder what you will think of them.  Although she never mentions SIV, I think her words are profoundly eloquent and describe the core, universal principles that promote healing from the need for SIV.

People who live with SIV are often misunderstood.  Understandably confused and frightened, people around us typically get invested in making SIV “go away.”  They want us “fixed,” for the SIV to disappear.  Unfortunately most mental health professionals want the same thing.  They don’t often understand (nor is it a priority to) the profound pain and distress that SIV temporarily soothes.  And sometimes we don’t understand ourselves either, and hope that there is a “fix” for us as well.

Seeing yourself as a fixer may cause you to see brokenness everywhere, to sit in judgment on life itself.  When we fix others, we may not see their hidden wholeness or trust the integrity of the life in them.  Fixers trust their own expertise.  When we serve, we see the unborn wholeness in others; we collaborate with it and strengthen it.  Others may then be able to see their wholeness for themselves for the first time.     (pg. 199)

What a difference in experience between someone wanting to fix us compared to someone serving us, helping us to see our strengths.  To be seen as “bad” or “broken” wounds the spirit.  To be understood as whole people who are suffering provides a fertile soil for healing and expansion.

Whether we ourselves live with SIV, carry the scars from having needed it in our pasts, or are people who care about those who self-injure, we can all serve each other.  Hopefully this blog is one place that can happen.  We need not try to change each other here.  We can share our journeys, our struggles, and wisdom with each other.  We can accept who we are and accept each other without needing to fix anything.  Sometimes the more we can accept where we are, the more opportunities arise for healing.  Trying to “fix” ourselves without understanding and accepting who we are in the moment tends to backfire.

The greatest blessing we offer others may be the belief we have in their struggle for freedom, the courage to support and accompany them as they determine for themselves the strength that will become their refuge and the foundation of their lives.  I think it is especially important to believe in someone at a time when they cannot yet believe in themselves.  Then your belief will become their lifeline.     (pg. 292)

What do you think about that?

In the process of beginning to upload past issues of The Cutting Edge I’ve been looking through the old issues. I’m always touched by the poetry, prose and artwork that people sent over the past 18 years. I’m glad that the newsletters will now be available through the web site (some are already posted, more will follow; each has editorial, contributor, and review sections).
Several different poets sent in poems that they used the same word to title their work. I remembered this when I came across one of them. It is titled “Battlescars.” I have been moved by each of the poems with that name and am reprinting one of them here for you:

BATTLESCARS

I lay my fingers tenderly upon them
some fine and white with age
some tanned brown, smooth and flat
Some raw. Raised. Angry.
Too new to be at peace with being.

I have been asked if I feel shame
over their being.
Shame?
Does the conscripted soldier
feel shame over shrapnel wounds?
Remnants of past savages.

My battle scars!

The undeclared war rages on
At times, the desire to abandon the fight is
Fierce
I am often dizzy from the wrath of the battle
Unsure of which direction leads us upwards
Conscripted to be part of this torment
Rightfully ensnared by the Furies

In the pale lull between skirmishes
I find reassurance in these fine lines and jagged squiggles
which bisect my arms, crosshatch my abdomen
Each one evidence of blood spilled into the swirling spiral
But each, too, evidence of a battle won
not without costs, but not without compensations.

I am.
Bottom line.
I am.

C.L. Davis

This poem makes me think of all the different reactions both I and other people have had to the scars on my body. Mine are still noticeable, though much more faded. I haven’t needed SIV in many years, yet the scars are still visible. Sometimes I’m aware of them and sometimes I’m not. On occasion other people notice them. Some ask questions, others just back away a bit. There are times I’ve answered questions directly, other times I simply lied. I’ve always wondered why some people feel comfortable talking to me about the scars even though I’m a complete stranger to them. It’s an interesting discussion I’d like to have with you. What are your experiences with scars? How do you feel about them? How do you feel about the scars of others? How do you respond to people who look at you or talk to you about scars? Let’s talk.

HELLO AGAIN!

Writing – it’s my love/hate relationship.   It takes a very strong wind to get me moving my pen to paper.  Today the wind got my attention and I am back to this blog.  I’ve missed it and I’ve missed you, dear readers.

The power of wind that has gotten me writing took two forms, one literal.  On a work trip to Cheyenne, WY I stole away for a day.  I left the city and drove to Vedauwoo, part of the Medicine Bow National Forest, renowned for its challenges to rock climbers.  I began hiking and soon my eyes moistened with tears as I began to take in this majestic area.  It was stunning, humbling, beautiful and exciting.  Several times I lost the marked trail and hiked up boulders and crawled around in cracks.  I kept moving up, eager to see a bit more of the rock, the sky, and the mountains in the distance.  I bundled myself against the strong wind while at the same time feeling the cold of snowmelt trickling and the warmth of the granite itself as the day got warmer.

Why am I writing about this?  Because this day of hiking came after a day of work during which I had the opportunity to speak about trauma and healing from SIV.  I met some wonderful people, my words seemed valued, and I felt hope that clinicians were beginning to understand those of us who live with scars created by our own hands.  And the following day out in the wild gave me time to appreciate my own journey.  The rock and birds, scrub pine and prairie dogs, didn’t care that I was scarred.  I sat in my happiness, grateful for this life I’ve had, including the despair and terror and rage.  It was all good as it had led to that moment of being out there, the work and the wilderness.

Later I returned to Cheyenne and had dinner with a colleague, poet Gayle Bluebird.  Feasting at the end of a long day we talked of work, of trying to help transform a mental health system that can seem as set in its ways as the boulders I scrambled on.   And I remembered that the change that matters is the one that comes one moment at a time.  Person to person.   And I remembered this blog.  Not being computer savvy I keep forgetting that I can write any time (the newsletter was published quarterly and I think I’m still in that rhythm).  Living in a rural area with dial-up access, using the internet does not come automatically to mind.  I had forgotten the connection I could feel through this blog.

Your words mean a great deal to me.  Every reply to a post, every letter or e-mail.  Sometimes I take so long to write that I worry that I have offended you.  Time seemed to fly by as I was doing others things, having forgotten this blog.  So I was just recently reminded how much I miss it.

As we parted, Gayle gifted me with her most recent book of poetry, written about her daughter and her daughter’s dying.  I read the first two poems and wept, tears because the words were so moving, rich with a delicate celebration as well as sorrow.  How do people heal?  Person to person.

Gayle was the metaphorical wind that has pushed me to write again.  She brought back to me the power of art, written or visual, to speak in profound ways.  I have missed the prose, poetry and art sent in by contributors to The Cutting Edge.  I remembered the poem that Gayle wrote for the newsletter, “For Children Who Keep Banging.”  I am sending that poem out so that it will be placed on the web site and hope that you all find the time to read it.  It speaks to my heart and I hope that it touches yours.  I hope that you are moved to write as well and, if you do, to send it to the rest of us.  Person to person, we heal.

I am coming back home to this blog and web site.  So sorry about having drifted away.  It’s good to be back.