Confessions of an At-Risk Youth

[Lady Arduriel]

Usually, labels are **** to me. Call me crazy, troubled, or special, I know who I am and no stereotype can change that. Lately, though, I've found a certain comfort in labels and their creators. Go ahead; tell me who I am so I don't have to figure it out for myself. I'm white. WASP! I'm female. Minority! I cut my own arms. Troubled! There I am, Jane A. Adolescent. I'll take your anti-depressants--have a nice life.

The thing that labellers never ask me is who I think I am. My dreams, goals and aspirations mean nothing to them; the scars on my arms damn before the hope in my eyes can save me. Society, I've seen, doesn't care about anything not immediately evident. Give me your drugs, put me in your enrichment programs--only YOU, Joe and Jane Taxpayer, can prevent my bumhood! It's all quite funny, actually. The politicians who stake their careers on the success of losers like me don't know that in the long run, all the special programs in the world can't save a soul. And one day, all of us screwed-up, messed-up, ****ed-up youths of America will be of voting age. Troubled we may be, but stupid we are not, a fact that seems to surprise most people.

I enjoy surprising people. I love to see their faces when I come out of a black mood just in time to laugh at their joke, or, God forbid, actually smile! Smashes their label into bits! Because everyone knows that depressed teenager just don't do that kind of thing, and no one likes to be proved wrong. One of my former therapists is an excellent example. The poor old man expected an angry, cursing individual wearing a pentagram around their neck. Instead he got me, clean, fully clothed, and lucid. It was a crushing disappointment for him. How was he supposed to know that I save my demons for when I'm alone? Like I said, I hate being labelled.

Sometimes, though, I find myself believing that I am what I have been labelled. Fine-double my anti-depressant dose, pat me on the head and tell me it will be OK. Part of me wants to grab onto those charades and hold them tightly, as if they can save me from myself. Then I wake up, open my eyes to this brave new world and I know that in the end, it won't be a label that saves me. In the end, my life is my responsibility. A simple concept to be sure, but society doesn't like to be challenged. Now, the likes and dislikes of society are nothing to me. They can take my label and victimize somebody else with it. Hell, I didn't even know I was a victim until somebody told me I was, but then, that's just my ignorance talking, isn't it?

[tony schofield]

"Go ahead; tell me who I am so I don't have to figure it out for myself."

This is the key sentence here to me LA. You're describing what's often referred to by the "experts" as "challenging behaviour" - or, at any rate challenging anyone else's explanation - and the one quoted above is the best explanation as it comes from yourself (at least assuming that this is autobiographical, which it might not be. I could write this way myself, were one of my children behaving in this way, in order to help create understanding on my part.)

If we are defined by our behaviour, it's only because that's all of us that other folk can see. We might, for example, feel full of pity for someone, but it's only through reaching out and helping that people can define us as "caring" or "compassionate." Self mutilation can look to observers as indicative of someone who wishes to punish themselves, or as someone who wishes to be the centre of other's concern. It can be masochistic, and therefore pleasurable, and self indulgent, or self hating. The perpetrator is probably wiser than anyone else as to the reasons. I guess that someone young, say a teenager, might be, at least to all practical purposes, the responsibility of someone else, like a parent or guardian - in which case their view is also entitled to some respect. They're at least responsible for the medical bills (in some cultures), and love also demands respect.

Perhaps respect is a key, for self and others affected. The causes may be complex and multiple, which brings me back to the quote that I selected. The behaviour is sufficiently radical to force others to try to "explain" you by pinning a label on you. Ultimately, as you know, only you can find the answer (which may prove to be not all that important from the perspective of more time)

tony

[superdeluxe]

"My life is my responsibility". Yes a simple concept that I think the whole world seems to have forgotten. And one that, if enough people realised it, could most likely change the course of life.

This piece makes some great points, but I guess it also shows that the sane happy 'well adjusted' people have as little idea of what is going on as the poor depressed statitistic. Probably less, really. So I wonder if that labels them the 'victim' as well.

Your writing kept me really interested in what you had to say. And I'll probably read it again.

[DeathMonkey]

Interesting... It was refreshing to read about someone who actually goes against the label she's put into. I like the fact that it's about an issue (depression, self mutilation) but there is hope and acceptance in it all the way through.

[Lady Arduriel]

thank you guys, I appreciate your comments. This is not only the story of my life, but the stories of my friends, of those who have no voice. And means everything to me that people are reading this. My friend Matt liked it so much he put it to a rap, which although I don't like rap, is a cool idea. Anyway. You guys are awesome.

[Barbriat]

Thank you for posting this enlightening piece. The thing that labellers never ask me is who I think I am. My dreams, goals and aspirations mean nothing to them Wouldn't you think this would be the first question in anyone's mind?

[Lady Arduriel]

Yes. The problem is that they don't have the guts to ask it.

[Ringwraith]

Usually, labels are **** to me. Call me crazy, troubled, or special, I know who I am and no stereotype can change that. Lately, though, I've found a certain comfort in labels and their creators. Go ahead; tell me who I am so I don't have to figure it out for myself. I'm white. WASP! I'm female. Minority! I cut my own arms. Troubled! There I am, Jane A. Adolescent. I'll take your anti-depressants--have a nice life.
You are Sarah. And me likes Sarah very much, thank you. :)

[Lady Arduriel]

yay!!! feel the power!!!