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Wet Paint is an exciting new Program developing with the YLC! Youth Board led by Samantha Bateman and John Butler. It focuses on life skills and coping skills to help equip youth in dealing with the issues around the self destructive behaviours that can lead to suicide.
More details coming soon.
Meantime read Samantha's real life story below:
I want to begin by acknowledging how difficult it is for a person to truly admit that they need help. For someone to say, 'hey, I can't do it on my own Ð want to give me a hand?' is a sheer rarity in society today, breaking down all barriers of pride, opening up the door to community, and allowing an outer hand to step in and say "I'm here for you. I'll do this beside you". We see how difficult this is in stereotypes of the hilarious 'handy man' at home refusing the plumbing service to fix the sink; it's found through children at school, refusing help with their homework because 'they can do it without a teacher'; and, the difficulty of asking for help is discovered in people like me, people who have struggled with silence and self-hurt.
When I was nine years old, my parents divorced. I had an abusive father and my mom decided that it was time to leave; we went to a shelter to stay for a few months, where I learned the "importance" of staying tough, and being strong for others. My mom was a full-time nurse working night shifts to save up money for a decent place to live, and my dad was back at home convincing me I would be better off to live with him. I was torn and confused, defending both 'sides'; I just wanted things to be better off, but in the end learned I might be better off just to keep my mouth shut. To stay strong from the inside, rebelling on the outside, and all in a child's act to save her family. Silence.
I turned eleven and was finally granted my wish to move back to my dad's house. Somehow, I thought it would turn things around and unite us all again. I believed my dad was a great man Ð my daddy, a piece of life that every girl yearns for. But to my avail and distress, within three weeks the abuse had become directed towards me. My father and I fought and hurt each other, me striking back to affirm that I could and that I was strong and didn't need to rely on anybody but myself. I learned the importance of keeping quiet, of not letting anybody know this was going on. During this time, I was being bullied at school simply for being a year younger than everybody else. Again, I had to keep my mouth shut in fear of, just, anything. I could do this on my own. I didn't need help, and I was going to be just fine without anybody else. Silence.
Two years went by and I moved out of my dad's house, into my mom's, and began high school. It's a feat in every student's life Ð high school! The ultimate cool factor is crowned upon your head, simply because you have turned a certain age and are finally ready for the world of the big people. Friends were everywhere and I have to admit that I began to love this part of my life, although I was still hurting on the inside. I loved the people I hung out with, and they listened to me Ð especially when I began to tell them of the struggles I had been through. They shared with me what they had endured, and our friendship strengthened and bondedÉto the point that they opened up to me about how they dealt with the pain they experienced.
My friends explained to me the process of 'cutting'; essentially, self-mutilation in order to experience a type of emotionally fabricated release of stress and energy. Hurting yourself in order to 'let things go'. I began to do this and it eventually became part of my life. It was my output. But the problem became greater as soon after, cutting turned into thoughts of suicide. I sincerely wanted to kill myself. I wanted to just leave all of this pain behind, to experience nothing, and to just get away from everything that hurt. My cutting became more severe my mom took me to the hospital where they refused to admit me because I was not a "great enough threat to others". My mom and I spent time at home, talking and watching television, so she could keep me with her. After a while, I began to surf the Internet and, still scared, I decided to Google help resources. I had been in counselling for years before, but everything seemed to fade away in times like this. I needed attention right now. I needed help. I could no longer be silent.
Somehow, I stumbled across a group I had heard of at school, now called Your Life Counts! I looked across the website, and noticed that their tagline at the time simply was, "your life counts!". I read this as if I felt I'd never heard it before. My life counts! It is valuable and has meaning. Wow. I found a resource on the website where I would be able to email in with my problem and receive support and encouragement, so I did. I was finally asking for help. In my email I was able to say and feel all of the things that I never had before, and gain positive feedback. I don't remember if the message was short or long, but I remember that sending it offered hope and assurance. Sending it meant that I was in contact with somebody and they would reply to me. I could hold on until then, and I did. But I couldn't do it on my own. YLC! began me on a healing process, where I was finally able to admit and seek help and guidance and am now a completely changed person. I wish this change and amazing help and hope on every young person struggling with similar issues, of silence, and self-hurt.
It is so difficult for a person to truly admit that they need help. To say 'hey, I can't do it on my own Ð want to give me a hand?' is a rarity, and often because we don't know help is there. YLC! needs you to get involved, and help let teens like me know that help is available. Your Life Counts reassures them, like it did me, "I'm here for you. I'll do this beside you" - but the problem is, we need you in order to be able to do that. Please consider supporting YLC! in order for it to have all that it needs to help youth today cope and find help. Opening the door to community and support, and a hand out of the hard times, brought me here today. My life counts!
Love, Samantha
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