I received this email a few days ago:



Mykee,

Once again I find myself doing the things I have tried so hard to stop doing and I dont know what to do. Your presentation at my school helped me so much im hoping you can lend me some advice.... I dont know what to do with myself any more. I cry myself to sleep at night and often have flash backs of the experiences I have had of abusive relationships. People talk about me at school and I can't find the strength to stop self mutilating...

please help me...

much love always,



If I could tell you the amount of people who write to me or personally show me their pain, I would be writing for weeks on end. I feel so sad and touched when I read emails such as these. Here's what I have to offer. Some options.



1. Find someone who you trust and talk. The ugly monster gets weaker if you talk. Get to a counselor. If not a counselor, then a teacher or principal or parent or neighbor, but find someone who you can trust.



2. Write. Draw. Whatever. Get it out. Write about it in poetry. In journals. Draw it out. Sing it out. Curse it out, then curse it out again. This last suggestion is best done alone (hint! hint!).



3. Find others who have been in the same situation or a similar one.



4. Read. Here's a book about cutting: http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/0439324599/qid=1101017028/sr=8-1/ref=pd_csp_1/104-5569958-0158320?v=glance&s=books&n=507846



5. Here are two teen websites to check out: http://www.teenadviceonline.org/ and

http://www.teenlineonline.org/. Check them out. They have been helpful to others.



6. Of course you could write me, but I am slow on the rebound because of my schedule, but mark it urgent and I will respond quicker.



I'm often asked, "what helped me?" Friends, youth pastor, prayer, teachers, poetry, cemeteries (i'll explain), accepting all that I couldn't change and changing all that I could, and creating situations that made me laugh.



Cemeteries. I like to walk around cemeteries during the day. When I do I check out what is written on the tombstones. I like to see the ages of the people as well as any pithy adages. I am not saddest by the young children who have died. I am most moved by those who lived to be 90-100 of age, because I cannot help but to think about how many days they actually lived, not existed, during their lives. Cemeteries give me a renewed passion for living no matter how down I am. It puts things in perspective for me. I suppose it much akin to the Langston Hughes poem, Still Here, "But I don't care. I'm still here."



I love you all, my friends in pain. I meditate and pray on your behalf. My hug goes to you.