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In The Cut

So, been thinking for a while about sharing our story of adoption in the hope that it might help other families and because it is such an incredible journey, it feels somehow important to document. Maybe one day it will also be important for our daughter who shall remain anonymous as this is her story too and she may not want to share it. I’ll call her Angel as we called her our ‘angel child’ for the first six months of her time with us, knowing full well that as soon as she felt safe enough, a more fully rounded two-year old would emerge. She was also referred to as an ‘angel child’ by her birth mum and dad who had lost a previous pregnancy and so were very grateful when they fell pregnant with her.  Angel is 9 and will be 10 in July. Right now we are what I call ‘in the cut’. We have just come out of our longest spell of equilibrium (about 3 months) and I felt a new baseline of her self-worth had been reached. It probably has but when the wound opens up, it’s incredible how deep ...
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Recent posts

Self Harm

She calls from school at 10am. ‘Mum it’s happened again’ I can hear she is holding back tears. ‘I need to come home’. ‘OK’, I say. ‘We will come get you.’  She tells me it happened in the exam, she couldn’t help it. Her brain was whirring and she bit herself until she bleed.  She sounded scared. I spoke to the teacher and they agreed I could come and get her. I was worried they wouldn’t as this was the second time in less than a week.  The first was last Tuesday. She cut herself with her finger nail and then found a sharp rock outside to make it deeper. That's quite a lot of intent.  The school called me to explain what had happened. They had cleaned her up and she wanted to stay in school. She then told her favourite teacher at lunchtime that she had had thoughts about self harm and death for a long time.  I spoke to the school again and explained that she had talked to me about these things too for a number of years and that it can feel very alarming but usual...
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Fallout

Angel calls me into her bedroom after school to ask for a plaster.  ‘What happened?’ I ask. ‘Oh nothing’ she says. ‘Just scratched my arm.’ I inspect the two scratches.  ‘You sure you didn’t do this to yourself?’  I say - casually, not accusatory, just curious.  She immediately fesses up. She says she was very stressed on the school trip to the museum and it’s the only thing that stops her brain whirring when there is too much chatter and background noise. ‘What does the brain whirring feel like? And do you feel it anywhere else in your body?’ I ask. ‘Just in my head.’  ‘How did you do it?’ ‘With my finger nails.’ I get the plasters and as we put them on, I say, ‘It must be really hard having that feeling but we need to find some better ways for you to  manage it.’ She nods.  I suggest a rubber band she can wear on her wrist and snap, and she is keen to try it. I ask what else might help and she says her fidget rings, which she has been banned from wea...
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