Photo: some rights reserved CrazyFast
by Lisa Vasquez
Editor’s Note: This story was originally published in We’Ced Youth Magazine Issue #2
[dropcap]I hate[/dropcap] living here! was carved into my bed. I would sit on the floor and stare at it for hours. We had just moved from our little apartment and I had to leave behind all the friends and the memories I had made.
It was the end of my sixth grade year and I was just about to go into seventh grade. I found it hard to adjust to new surroundings and I wasn’t ready to start fresh. I was nervous, confused and angry. Since the move my mom and I had been arguing. It was like we couldn’t even be around each other without one of us picking at the others throat. I just thought that all the tension between my mom and I was because of the move and my little seventh grade hormones.
The situation between us had not gotten any better over the next few months and instead of carving into my bed I was carving into myself. My mom eventually saw the cuts and said she was concerned about my well being and scared I might do something worse. My mom told me I was going to see a counselor to help me under- stand why I felt the way I did and to stop the cutting. I was confused and nervous, “I’m not crazy!” I would yell. I would think to myself if I can’t help myself, what makes them think they can?
[pullquote_left]I had never been to a counselor before so I didn’t know what to expect. My mom had lots of experience with counseling and she told me that I would just talk to someone about my feelings and issues and try to talk through them.[/pullquote_left]
I had never been to a counselor before so I didn’t know what to expect. My mom had lots of experience with counseling and she told me that I would just talk to someone about my feelings and issues and try to talk through them. I remember our sessions never got too personal or deep and it was more of just a friendly conversation. It felt nice to just have someone to talk to about whatever was bothering me.
I started to feel relieved. I told my counselor after seeing her for two sessions a week for about two months that I felt better emotionally and that I felt like I didn’t need her guidance anymore. My home life had improved with my mom and I wasn’t cutting any longer. My mom and counselor agreed to stop the sessions. My dad had just gotten out of jail after 12 years and was granted visitation to see me. I was so excited! I was starting to feel optimistic again about things. My little tween life just seemed right.