I'm writing an article about self-abuse, about self-mutilation, about self-injury: about cutting. I'm writing an article about it because it matters. If I wasn't a reporter for the newspaper right now I would be sitting downstairs watching Growing Pains. Not that there's anything wrong with the Seaver family, but this is some important stuff. The idea that someone would willingly and intentional inflict pain upon themselves almost seems hilarious to some people. It's such a far-fetched idea. But it's not. Self-harm effects more than half of the United States' adolescent population. Many of them only do it once or twice, and then find it ineffective, but there are a few that continue. It's not a suicide attempt. It's a way to feel alive, however much of an oxy-moron it may seem upon initial glance.
I'm so scared and excited to write the piece. I'm writing about writing. How sick am I? Anyway, after talking with six or seven different UI professionals and/or students I feel like I have a firm handle on the subject.
It's running as our weekend edition "80 Hours" front December 14. Honestly, I'm scared to put pen to page or finger to keyboard. I don't want to offend. I don't want to instigate. I want to bring to the forethought. I want to decrease stigma. I want people to understand, and not judge, but I want self-harmers to stop. Knowing that a person can feel so disconnected, so out-of-touch hurts me. Instead of condemning, as a society we need to reach out and touch someone. Even if it hurts--reach out and help them feel alive.
We can't desensitize our minds to those things that we initially want to run away from in fear of knowing that it can affect even the most unsuspecting bystander. Even. If. Hurts.
Friday, December 08, 2006
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
"Well, you know, we all want to change the world"
I wake up about a minute before my alarm goes off almost every day. Do I have anxiety? If I do, this is really a bad time for me, it should simply come back later or even at all.
I wrote a short story the other night and part of it had this interaction between a mother, a daughter and the phone which had a solicitors voice on the end. Whenever solicitors call I usually lie and say whoever it is that they're looking for isn't home. I do it because my mom doesn't like talking to them. She doesn't like saying, "I'm sorry, but we don't want to give our money to you." It's not because she isn't generous, it's just that as a parental unit my parents decide at the beginning of each year where everything is going to go, which charities, which institutions, which churches, etc... I realize now that even though some people do that, there still isn't ever going to be enough money to go around.
There's a part in Bridget Jones' Diary: The Edge of Reason where she's at a high-and-mighty dinner with her boyfriend, Mark Darcy. At the dinner she ends up over-hearing a group of "fat, balding, upper-middle-class twits" say that they are totally against charitable giving. That seems to be the consensus these days, and if people do give it's only the scraps from the table they didn't want anyway. Something in me says that's innately wrong. Giving what you don't want isn't really an act of kindness, it's more or less a garage sale. Perhaps I'm idealistic, perhaps others have a reason for the way they are, but in the end, people still go hungry, they still don't have enough clothing to keep them warm, they don't have a roof over their head, they don't have. And the list goes on.
If you had to give away something that you really loved, truly loved, and were allowed to choose out of three things you adored, what would you give away? Would it be the least expensive of the three, the one you cannot replace, the one you like least of the ones you love? These are the things I think about periodically. The hard part about giving away the things we think we need is just that, we think somewhere down the road we might need it. The thing we giving things away that are ours, like a sentimental teddy bear, what have you, is that we don't think another person could or would care about it as much as we do. It's like we expect a thanks after we give. The truth is, sometimes people won't say thank you, but give anyway.
As people when we give, assuming we do give, we should give from our plate, or rather our heart.
I wrote a short story the other night and part of it had this interaction between a mother, a daughter and the phone which had a solicitors voice on the end. Whenever solicitors call I usually lie and say whoever it is that they're looking for isn't home. I do it because my mom doesn't like talking to them. She doesn't like saying, "I'm sorry, but we don't want to give our money to you." It's not because she isn't generous, it's just that as a parental unit my parents decide at the beginning of each year where everything is going to go, which charities, which institutions, which churches, etc... I realize now that even though some people do that, there still isn't ever going to be enough money to go around.
There's a part in Bridget Jones' Diary: The Edge of Reason where she's at a high-and-mighty dinner with her boyfriend, Mark Darcy. At the dinner she ends up over-hearing a group of "fat, balding, upper-middle-class twits" say that they are totally against charitable giving. That seems to be the consensus these days, and if people do give it's only the scraps from the table they didn't want anyway. Something in me says that's innately wrong. Giving what you don't want isn't really an act of kindness, it's more or less a garage sale. Perhaps I'm idealistic, perhaps others have a reason for the way they are, but in the end, people still go hungry, they still don't have enough clothing to keep them warm, they don't have a roof over their head, they don't have. And the list goes on.
If you had to give away something that you really loved, truly loved, and were allowed to choose out of three things you adored, what would you give away? Would it be the least expensive of the three, the one you cannot replace, the one you like least of the ones you love? These are the things I think about periodically. The hard part about giving away the things we think we need is just that, we think somewhere down the road we might need it. The thing we giving things away that are ours, like a sentimental teddy bear, what have you, is that we don't think another person could or would care about it as much as we do. It's like we expect a thanks after we give. The truth is, sometimes people won't say thank you, but give anyway.
As people when we give, assuming we do give, we should give from our plate, or rather our heart.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)