Silently Screaming

Have you ever had a dream in which something bad is about to happen, but when you try to scream for help, nothing comes out? When I was young, I had a dream that I was in a department store with my mom, and we were walking through what seemed like a never-ending maze of clothing racks. I must have been lagging behind because, before I knew it, I couldn’t see my mom anymore. I tried to call out to her, but when I opened my mouth, no sound came out. I panicked and tried to run – but that, too, seemed to be an impossible feat. I was moving in slow motion, unable to let out a single sound to signal to my mom, wherever she was in my dream world, that I was lost and scared. I don’t remember how old I was when I had that dream, but for whatever reason I’ve never forgotten it. I’ve had several similar ones since then – different scenario (most of which I have no recollection), same inability to call for help or run away when something bad is happening. I know I’m not the only one – haven’t we all experienced this type of helpless nightmare while we are tucked safely in bed?

But how many of you know what it feels like to be LIVING this nightmare?

Dreams like that are scary enough, but at least, in most cases, the memory of the dream fades as quickly as we open our eyes and focus on the alarm clock. When this feeling of having paralyzed vocal cords is your reality, however, it’s a whole different story. Communicating your thoughts, feelings, needs, wants, fears, and regrets becomes difficult. You look for ways to grab people’s attention (whether intentionally or unintentionally; consciously or subconsciously) – to get someone to notice that you need some help. That used to be my reality. I started feeling depressed after my parents divorced when I was 14, but things really took a turn for the worse when my dad was injured and had to stay with my mom and I while he recovered. They started acting like a couple again – hugging, kissing, sleeping in the same bed – it disgusted me. Most kids would have probably been ecstatic at the possibility of their parents getting back together – I was not one of those kids. My parents fought all the time when they were married. To their credit, they attempted (for the most part) to keep it behind closed doors – but, news flash, we didn’t live in a house with soundproof doors. I hated that my parents were divorced, but that didn’t mean I wanted them back together. I felt like I had no control over the situation, and I couldn’t figure out how to say what was on my mind. It felt like those dreams – something bad was happening, but I couldn’t scream for help. (My parents didn’t end up getting back together – but, unfortunately and unbeknownst to them, the damage had been done).

I turned it all inward – I became incredibly depressed, and I started looking for things I could control. Combined with my need to be perfect, I started controlling my food intake, and “health-conscious” gradually morphed into anorexia, which, over time, morphed into bulimia (but that’s another story). I was struggling with my perceptions of how I should look – constantly feeling like I was failing at being perfect. I was struggling with anger and resentment toward both my parents – unable to put words to my feelings. I was struggling with the belief that I was all alone and that no one would ever understand.

I started cutting.

The scars on my arms were silent screams for help. I used to envy the people who weren’t afraid to speak their minds, who weren’t afraid of confrontation, and who knew they had a voice and how to use it. If I had been one of those people, I wouldn’t be in my 20’s with permanent reminders of being 16 up and down both arms. I wouldn’t have to watch as people I don’t know blatantly stare at my arms. I wouldn’t have to endure the awkward situation when those same people decide to ask me what happened (on vacation in Mexico, I told someone (sarcastically, and probably with some attitude) that it was from a shark bite – a sort of “f*** you for asking” answer. No, I’m not proud). If I had been one of those people, I wouldn’t have to figure out how I’m going to explain the scars to my own daughter when she’s old enough to know I’m lying when I say, “a mean kitty did it.” That one kills me to think about. To any of you who feel that the only way you can get help is to destroy yourself until someone notices – I know how you feel. I’ve been there, and I’ve done that. But it doesn’t have to be that way. Even if you don’t know how to use your voice, there are ways to let people know you need help without hurting yourself in the process.

I never did well with verbal interactions – still, to this day, I am much more comfortable expressing myself through writing. I hate talking on the phone - I’d much prefer to text or e-mail. In therapy, I did a lot of staring at the ground and nodding my head yes or no. Thankfully, my therapist allowed me to e-mail her between sessions. I was able to vent about anything and everything as it was happening rather than having to wait until the next session. Then, during the next session, she would refer to my e-mail as a starting point and could ask me specifics about what I wrote. This process was very instrumental in helping me develop my own voice and figure out how to use it. Maybe you are like me, and expressing yourself verbally is difficult for you – I strongly encourage you to try writing what you are feeling. You can simply scribble down anything that comes to your mind – words, phrases, or literally just scribbles. You can put your feelings into a poem format, or you can write it as if it were a letter or e-mail to someone (even if you don’t plan on sending it). I used to do all three – I have notebooks full of poems, journals full of random thoughts, feelings, and, yes, angry scribbles, and several pages of e-mails on my computer. I’m begging you to give it a shot if you haven’t already - or to try again if you have before. Once you have something written, (it could be something as simple as, “I’m hurting, I need/want help.”) show it to someone: a friend, teacher, family member, school counselor, or with whomever you feel comfortable enough. It will probably be hard for you to do this – but, trust me, it’s better than holding it all inside. You don’t deserve to endure the pain (emotional or physical) you may be inflicting upon yourself because you don’t know how to tell people you need help. Let the keyboard, pen, pencil, marker, or even a freaking crayon be your voice – write something...anything - you do not have to scream silently anymore!

-Quixotic311

Maybe you are already past this point - you are getting help but still feel compelled to hurt yourself. I've been there too, and I'll be discussing that in a future post. As always, if you like what you see or think it might benefit someone else, please share it using the share buttons below :)