I have some amazing trees in my yard. All summer long they keep me shaded and house hundreds of birds---literally. But then fall comes and I find myself knee deep in leaves.

I know the calendar says it's December, but it was almost 80 today. I finally had a perfect excuse to get out there and rake up millions (ok, so it was probably only a hundred thousand!) of leaves.

Raking leaves is not my favorite activity. In fact, I keep thinking today as blisters grew under my gloves that one day robots would probably do it for me.

And then I thought about how much robots will probably cost and I kept raking.

But outside, in the air, surrounded by visual reminders of the season, I found myself appreciating the work.

Thanks to my efforts, my grass won't die. I won't fear grabbing a lizard when I reach down to get the paper and my house is no longer the only one in the neighborhood that looks like something out of a Ace Hardware commercial.

Nature reminds us that there is a cycle to things...that nothing is forever, and that change is ever present.

One day before I know it, I will walk up the steps and find small, green buds on the ends of all the branches and small blooms will exist where now are only dead stems.

I love the idea of starting over.

Of being made new.

Of having a chance to "clean the slate" without anyone remembering what I did or didn't do in the past.

Nature in that way is very forgiving.

As I bring another year to a close, I find myself wanting, in many ways, to start over.

New goals.

New experiences.

A new commitment to move forward no matter how many things in my life seem to tether me to the past.

Today, I was a part of the life cycle. After months of watering the lawn at midnight and enjoying the shade that was the result, I now had a chance to "clean up" what was in anticipation of what is to come.

It's never to soon to start new.

Today, I feel like I turned over a new leaf.

Thousands and thousands of them.

tags: acceptance, forgiveness, fresh start, nature, new beginnings

I had the chance to speak to a group of mental health professionals on Friday. I am always excited about having a platform to share some of my experiences so that someone else will be spared some of the frustration I had trying to get help.

The best part of these conferences is having others ask me questions.

I tell people up front that there isn't a question that is "off limits".

If they have a question they would like answered, I am assuming it is with the intention of educating themselves and not just out of idle curiosity.

The biggest challenge of speaking out about self-injury is putting myself in a position where I have to stand up and claim my past.

But it is also one of the biggest benefits and a huge part of my healing process.

Many cultures believe in public confession.

Uncomfortable as it may be, there is something to be said for it.

How many times have we made a mistake and then deal with the consequences in private? Our fears about being forgiven or not are usually internalized and rarely openly dealt with.

But if we were to stand up in front of others and say what we meant, others could attest to our sincerity and what was said. Confession and forgiveness would be "on record" and there wouldn't be a need for a private re-hashing or fear of anyone finding out about what was done.

It would also eliminate the need for some of the games people play.

Right?

If you believed others would find out about the choices you've made, would you make the same choices?

I don't know that I would.

How many things are done under the guise of "no one will know"?

But when I'm speaking about self-injury, everyone knows. Things that I spent thirty years keeping a secret and now open, analyzed and scrutinized by others.

To have others question me about intimate details of my past has been very important in my healing process.

Why?

Because once I stand up and claim the behaviors, they don't have as much power as "skeletons in my closet" as they might otherwise have.

For example, I mentioned Friday something about my tools. I was vague, didn't elaborate. But then a hand went up. "By tools, what do you mean exactly?"

"You mean what exactly did I use?"

"Yes."

One more secret brought out into the open. The more tools I named, the more people wanted to know about them. Where I got them. How I knew I needed them. How I knew they would work. Why I couldn't just go buy new ones when I'd given the old ones away.

The more the audience learned, the more whole and cleansed I became.

There is something powerful about standing up and saying "this is me".

We all fear condemnation, but I have yet to experience any through my speaking engagements.

Maybe it is shock at what I've said that prevents that. Or maybe it is a feeling of relief that I am the one under the microscope, not them.

But I would like to think it's something else.

I think everyone has something they hope no one finds out about but secretly wishes that they will so that they won't have to bear the burden of keeping it a secret anymore.

It's like running from the law.

In the beginning, I imagine there is a sense of accomplishment. But over time, running must get tiresome and the want of a normal life becomes greater than a desire to keep looking over your shoulder. So that, once they are caught, there is no struggle, just surrender.

I have surrendered.

I have put myself in a position to be judged but realize no one can judge me as harshly as I have judged myself for most of my life.

This frees me from shame or guilt in the eyes of others. If I feel those things, it's from within.

I have grown a little more in my recovery since I wrote. I feel like I have taken one more step towards putting some of the past behind me and am standing a little taller as a result.

tags: acceptance, cutting, perspective, public confession, recovery, self-confidence, self-injury, tools, treatment

I've been asked to present a half-day seminar for the new teachers in our district next month. Many of these will be fresh faces out of college or older individuals who are making a career change. But all of them will have one thing in common: this next year will be their first in a classroom.

As a twelve-year veteran, I've learned a thing or two about how to survive, deal with day-to-day stressors that only teenagers can bring and strategies for organization. I will be sharing these, but they won't be the most important part of my program.

Instead, I will be sharing some of my greatest mistakes.

I've still got a couple of weeks before I have to present, and in preparing my program, I've found myself re-visiting my "days of old" when I too was fresh out of college, 20, and dying under the pressure of trying to save each little soul that walked through my door.

It's hard to face the reality that I've failed or made some stupid mistakes, but I have. Sometimes I focused on the wrong things and missed the bigger picture. Sometimes I failed to connect with a kid because I was too caught up in my own life to see their need. And sometimes I had what I thought was a brilliant idea, and it blew up in my face once I tried to implement it.

Yet I am still called a "Master Teacher".

This is a misnomer because I feel like I still learning. Each group of kids I work with brings with it their own challenges and lessons for me to learn.

I may be the teacher, but I feel like I am the one that gets an education every single day.

Facing my mistakes is painful because I don't want to admit that I could make such blatant errors. Some of these errors weren't my fault. I wasn't mentored or taught how to do certain things. Instead, life was my teacher and I have to scars to show for it. But a lot of my mistakes I have to claim. I made them and learned from them and that's how I've continued to grow, personally and professionally.

But to stand up in front of others and publically confess my idiocy is another thing all together. I am risking judgment by sharing my mistakes.

But I'm prepared for that. It is my hope that by sharing my pitfalls and how I learned to avoid them, that others too will find value in what I've learned. I won't be able to prevent all of the mistakes from being made, but hopefully I can head some of them off. If others can laugh with me as I share some of my blunders, then maybe they won't be crying later on when they make their own.

There is something about us that wants to present a perfect image to the world and that's a huge mistake. Failure is our best teacher, yet few people are willing to risk this part of their learning process.

Michale Jordan once said that he is successful because he failed.

There's a tremendous amount of truth to that.

We shouldn't be ashamed to talk openly about our mistakes. This is how we grow and learn. Likewise, we shouldn't judge others for their mistakes. Ok, so some mistakes are stupid. But a lesson is learned regardless and that's where the value lies.

In reflecting about my career, I realize how far I've come. I hope that my first groups of students learned as much from me as I tried to teach them, but I know that may not be the case. As I have grown stronger as a teacher, so has my ability to share the material and present it in a variety of ways.

Don't ever be ashamed to claim where you've been or what you've done. You are who you are as a result. And only you have the power to change that reality.

I used to cut because I believed I was a screw-up. I have learned that I did some screwed up things, but that didn't mean I was without value.

That's a huge lesson that I've learned and one I can't wait to share.

tags: acceptance, cutting, life lessons, mistakes, personal growth, self-injury

I'm on the road and am learning the hard way about life without the internet. On the one hand, it's nice, not feeling the pressure of having a message waiting and not being able to respond. But on the other, I feel like I've taken a huge step backwards, and am once again relying on other people, books, magazines and the television to keep me in tune with the world.

Because I've not had access to "technological distractions", I find myself looking more carefully at the human condition. I realize each day how alike we truly are, regardless of where we come from.

For example, near Harvard yard yesterday there was a trio of musicians playing from Peru. Their music was captivating, and they'd only played a short time before they drew a crowd. As I sat there listening, a group of homeless people came to listen and started to dance, without inhibition. In the beginning, I wasn't sure what to think, but after a moment or two, I was excited for them. Why? Because at one point or another, we've all danced (albeit usually behind closed doors) to our favorite song like we're on Star Search. How freeing to not care what others might think! How wonderful to listen to your heart and respond with full obedience. For that moment, these individuals were like everyone else: appreciating beautiful music and showing the world outwardly the movement of their inner souls.

I've thought a lot this week about people and how alike we are. I see so much of myself in others and started to create a list of similarities. I'm sharing them with you now in the hopes that you see some of yourself in this list as well.

1. Everyone does car karaoke

2. It's ok to cry while you drive

3. It's possible to make someones day by just telling them to have a good one

4. Everyone makes the same face when they eat a vegetable they don't like

5. Even though we know it's impossible to keep our eyes open while we sneeze or lick our elbows, most of us have tried it thinking we'll be "the one"

6. Finding money on the street stops you in your tracks

7. We've all bent down to pick up something that looks like money only to find it isn't so we play it off and keep on walking

8. It's virtually impossible to explain to someone else why you love the person you do

9. Even though you've seen it a million times, the same movie can make you cry each time you watch it

10. Ice cream tastes the best when it's cold outside

11. Dog kisses really can make you feel better

12. All screams on a roller coaster sound the same

13. Making eye contact with another is a soul-to-soul connection

14. Getting caught in the rain brings out the kid in all of us

15. There is nothing like being away from home and having someone you love pick you up

Isn't it great to know you aren't alone?

tags: acceptance, humanity, kinship

I have a hard time with the issue of forgiveness. Forgiveness was hard to come by in my family. Saying you were sorry was often met with an attitude of incredulity and often, being told to say I was sorry before I knew what I was sorry for, was cause for additional cross words and isolation.

In the Bible it says that we should forgive others seventy times seven. That's a lot. But how many times should I forgive myself? More often than not, I don't, and rarely do I feel I deserve to.

Not being able to forgive myself for things prevents me from moving forwards. What's in the past is done. There is no going back and changing anything. But there is a never-ending cry within me of "what if" and "if I only would have". It's purposeless and a waste of time, but it lives within me none-the-less.

I am much more forgiving of others. As a teacher I am often called to look past bad attitudes, short tempers, words said out of frustration and poor decision-making skills. I do my best to correct these things in a tactful way, but kids are kids and they need my understanding and forgiveness more than they need my direction sometimes.

It's always easier to see faults within ourselves and mask those things to the outside world. Insecurity is often masked by anger and a short temper. Loneliness may be masked by exaggerated social interactions. Low self-esteem may be masked by an overt sense of self, a false bravado that you are better than everyone else.

But these are lies we tell the world to hide the reality within us.

What if we could say we were sorry and be believed? What if we could make up for the wrongs in our lives and never think about them again?

How I wish it were that easy! I wish I knew that others realized the sincerity with which I choose my words. Rarely do I say what I mean, but I always mean what I say. Sometimes that gets me into a lot of trouble!

Self-injury was a way for me to express a profound apology to the world for my transgressions. Bruises were my way of paying my pennance. Blood was my way of trying to get rid of the "bad" part of myself that hurt others feelings or said things I shouldn't.

But never, in all of my behaviors, was there a place for forgiveness. If self-injury was my apology, where was the acceptance and the forgiveness for it? In addition to asking for forgiveness for what I'd done, usually I found myself secretly begging for forgiveness for hurting myself...one more time...even when I'd promised God I wouldn't do that anymore.

I am slowly learning to forgive. I am working hard at keeping things that happened in the past, in the past. I am trying to focus on living in the moment and not expecting myself to be perfect in the process.

And I am trying to learn how to stop apologizing.

I cannot live my life being sorry, and I cannot constantly be on a quest for forgiveness. No one else seems to expect me to perfect. Why should I?

tags: acceptance, apology, bruises, cutting, forgiveness, regret, remorse, self-injury

I've never understood why eating disorders were more socially "acceptable" than self-injury. These behaviors share many of the same characteristics and root causes, yet if you tell someone you have an eating disorder, they nod their head, offer sympathy and move on. The world feels free to ask the person with the eating disorder questions and only in rare instances will seem shocked at what they hear in reply.

But self-injury is not that way.

The stigma for self-injury is too great. To admit that you harm yourself as a way of coping is such a foreign concept to most people that once this behavior is exposed, few can do anything but recoil in horror. "How can you DO that?" people will ask. "I'm surprised. You don't look like someone who would do that."

It makes me wonder then what a person who hurts themselves is supposed to look like.

Before Karen Carpenter, eating disorders were mysterious. They weren't totally unheard of, but once a celebrity lost her life to one, people were desperate for more information.

Until now, self-injury has not had such a poster child.

I want the world to look at me very closely. I want them to examine my past, my education, my credentials and my life so that the realize that self-injury isn't some fluke behavior that happens to "those people".

I AM those people.

I want people to ask me questions so that I might alleviate part of the ignorance that exists. I want people to challenge my belief system so that I might better explain why I think and do some of the things I do. I want people to see that ultimately I am a regular person. Why is this scary for the outside world? Because if self-injury can occur in someone like me, a regular person, then it can occur in someone else equally "normal".

I regret that I have spent years shamefully hiding a true part of who Vanessa is. I wish now that I had confronted that shame and exposed the truth it worked to hide. The more I speak about self-injury, the less mysterious it becomes.

The reality is people harm themselves in a variety of ways. For some, their poison is alcohol, tobacco, gambling, food or pornography. In an effort to cover up some side of themselves that they find undesirable or acceptable, individuals do all they can to make it disappear. Some people will die trying.

I believe I have more to offer the world than that. I am no longer afraid of what people may say when they find out the truth behind my scars. By refusing to let other people make me feel uncomfortable, I am standing boldly in the eyes of the world and exposing them to the reality of self-injury.

Over the last two months I have heard from hundreds of people all over the world who self-injure. I am not alone. By boldly claiming my behavior, I am giving hope to others who still struggle with this part of who they are.

I do not need society to accept my self-injury, but hope they will work to understand it.

tags: acceptance, cutting, eating disorders, scars, self-injury, shame