The Story of Channon Rose: Lessons between the Lines by Channon Rose

with my thinking and mindset at the time as well.
    Soon after, my evening dose of Seroquel must have kicked in as I was done cutting myself because I recklessly unlocked my bathroom door, walked down the hall to my little sister’s bedroom covered in blood, and stood in the dark with my arms dripping blood at my sides. I stood there for a while and then turned on the light to wake her up. “What are you doing?” she asked me. I held my arms up to her and said, “This is because of you; this is all your fault.” I knew what I was doing was wrong but I couldn’t stop myself from doing it. Her eyes grew big and she just sat there quiet and in shock—she was so scared. I have no idea why I went into her room or why I said that to her. It made no sense to me or to her. Nothing was her fault. I had just traumatized my baby sister and I knew what I was doing this time but it was as if my body was working but my brain was controlling me to do things I knew I shouldn’t have been doing.
    Something inside me snapped, and I ran back to my bathroom and sat on the floor and started crying hysterically. What had I just done? I hit myself in the head over and over again. I felt so stupid. I felt really bad about what I had just done to my sister. I was just adding to my list of f*ck ups and feeling like the sh*tiest person on the planet. I just sat there rocking back and forth on the floor of my bathroom crying until I was carried away in restraints and loaded into the back of another ambulance. I was heading back once again to another hospital.
    Each time I went back to a hospital, I died a little more inside each time. My youth and my spirit were being stripped away. I was no longer a child; I was a psych patient now—even when I was home. Everyone treated me like I was crazy with serious problems but they hadn’t seen anything yet.

Some things I learned:
People look at cutters as either attention seekers or crazy people that have serious issues and look down upon them. You guys, these are the people we need to be lifting up. They are in so much pain emotionally and maybe they are seeking attention, so give it to them; they need it. Be the person that helps someone so desperately in need. You do not need to be a doctor but a good listener. That can really help someone. If I had someone I could talk to other than a doctor, maybe I would not have done that to myself.
Cutting is not a real emotional release. Your brain is tricked into believing that from the adrenaline that surges when you self-inflict pain. Then a dopamine rise makes you feel good—and these complex physical reactions get mistaken for relief. There are better ways of dealing with that pain, and trust me; you do not want scars on your arms for the rest of your life. I have them, and they are embarrassing now. They do not go away.
Most people that cut are driven to it. They do not have the tools to express how they feel (because they are medicated or feel helpless), so they hurt themselves instead. This compulsion is born from low self-esteem and severe emotional trauma. Do not blame someone for cutting, instead, try to be a friend to those people as they need friends more than anyone and help make sure they seek professional help, they need it.

Chapter 6

HIGH-School & Prostitution
    “Forget what hurt you in the past, but never forget what it taught you.”
    SHANNON L. ALDER

 
    I was released from the hospital before entering high school and was getting ready to start ninth grade. Before even setting foot into high school I thought I was a lost cause, and I don’t blame any of my family or friends for thinking that way about me. I attended Granada Hills High School. New school, new people, and the same scenario as always it felt like. I didn’t know anyone who was going to be going there. I had given up on trying to be “normal” or “good” and instead decided I wasn’t going to follow any rules and I was going to have shitty attitude because I really