D R A M A++Q U E E N

What's the worst thing your mother ever did to you? Send your submission to the Drama Queen for a Day contest

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T A B L E++T A L K

What kind of clothing allowance is sufficient for a teenager? Join the discussion in the Mothers area of Table Talk

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R E C E N T L Y

A kinder, gentler cowboy
By Polly Shulman
Reviving the latest endangered species: cowboys
(06/04/98)

African awakening
By Vivienne Walt
Senegal turns against the tyranny of female genital mutilation.
(06/03/98)

Class warfare, Part Two
By Ira Eisenberg
How a California high school became a battleground in the struggle over what America's students should be taught about homosexuality
(06/02/98)

The showdown at San Leandro High, Part One
By Ira Eisenberg
A battle between parents and gay-rights advocates may be a preview of the country's next great culture war
(06/01/98)

Infant revolution
By Dawn MacKeen
The children who are giving Nike a dressing down
(05/29/98)

BROWSE THE MOTHERS WHO THINK FEATUREARCHIVES

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Mamafesto
By Camille Peri
Why it's time
for Mothers Who Think

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Living under
the knife

STEVEN LEVENKRON'S BOOK
"CUTTING: UNDERSTANDING
AND OVERCOMING SELF-MUTILATION"
CASTS AN EYE ON THE EMOTIONAL
PAINS BEHIND A DARK
ADOLESCENT PRACTICE.

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CUTTING: UNDERSTANDING AND OVERCOMING SELF-MUTILATION
BY STEVEN LEVENKRON | W.W. NORTON & CO. | 269 PAGES

BY FIONA MORGAN | One windy afternoon I sat on a bench behind my high school and watched kids playing soccer in the yellow grass. I was 15. My head was clouded with anger at everyone around me. The targets kept shifting from my family, which was actually stable and supportive, to my friends, who were dealing with their own personal and academic problems, to the pretension and hypocrisies of my Southern prep school. None of these things on its own was particularly remarkable, but that didn't keep them from being any less intense. One moment I was furious at these people, the next desperate to protect them from my illogical rage.

I was sick to death of my feelings, but I did not want to die. (Deep down, I knew if I could just graduate from high school, everything would be all right.) I pulled a box of matches out of my bag and set a binder up over my knees to shield me from the wind. One by one, I lit each match and extinguished it on a patch of skin in the crook of my right elbow. With each match in hand, I mustered the nerve to ignore my instincts and hit the already-pink, stinging spot, feeling the pain wash through and fade out again in a finite wave. When the box was empty, I was calm. Endorphins pumping through my body made me feel more awake. I stopped needing to cry.

Years later, that patch of skin is healed into a slightly bumpy oval a shade lighter than the rest of my arm. It looks something like a track mark, and thus still occasionally elicits surprised revulsion. I have other little pale marks on my wrists and arms and thighs, standard spots self-mutilators choose, as they are sensitive and easy to hide. But that's all that's left of those impulses. I have two college degrees, a terrific job and lots of friends. I have a great relationship with my family and big plans for my future.

Steven Levenkron's "Cutting: Understanding and Overcoming Self-Mutilation" lacks any uplifting story of resolution such as this. Rather than following a set of patients through life's trials to a promising future, Levenkron ends most of the case histories after the first few sessions, with a brief account of how long it took to elicit a thorough confession. Like most pop psychology books, "Cutting" begins with widely applicable insights that read something like a horoscope for teenagers: The self-mutilator feels misunderstood, lacks self-esteem, does not possess the maturity required to express her feelings, is likely to have experienced physical or mental abuse. But by Chapter 3, the sensitive healing language that marks pop psychology vanishes into a clinical explanation of the complex emotional machinations behind the behavior.

The book does not sentimentalize or dramatize self-mutilation in the way most media treat teenage problems. Levenkron, a psychotherapist in New York, estimates that about one in every 250 girls is a self-mutilator, roughly the same percentage as those who suffer anorexia, which is Levenkron's other area of expertise. He mercifully avoids waving red-flag words like "addiction" and "suicide," stressing instead "removing the drama and replacing isolation with sharing." Levenkron's calm tone throughout the book portrays a professional disposition that seems to answer his personal call to compassion with level-headed action and listening.

Unlike Mary Pipher's popular "Reviving Ophelia," which spoke to the average Middle American parents, "Cutting" mainly targets therapists, a group that, according to Levenkron, is still unfamiliar with ways of dealing with the phenomenon. While Levenkron explains the various terms -- dissociative, symptomatic, disorder, etc. -- as clearly as possible, one can practically hear the frightened mother worried about the cuts on her daughter's arms screaming at his picture on the book jacket, "But what do I do?"

Self-mutilation was common at my high school; we called it "masochism" and among our circle of masochists we allowed for certain exhibitions. During geometry class, we'd have contests to see who could endure rubbing an eraser across their skin the longest. In a competitive environment, the most screwed-up person was the one who got the most credibility. Yet outside of our circle, we hid the marks on our bodies with long sleeves and lied about their causes. I was ashamed because the effects of my venting were sickening to look at. My pain was self-inflicted, an outward proof of my illogical feelings. There seemed to be no reasonable justification for my emotional turbulence, or for my way of dealing with it.

N E X T+P A G E: Extreme cases