Content Warning: This post discusses self-harm and suicide. Take care of yourself while reading, and walk away if you need a break.
When did I first suspect that my son was being radicalized or that something was going horribly wrong? It’s one of the questions most often repeated when I share our story.
“When did you learn that he became entrapped in 764 and NVE?” is the second top question. The short answer? It was almost too late, and I almost never found out. More on that later…
Giving our story, the warning signs, and your questions the depth they deserve is the focus of this series. Reliving the trauma is not easy, but I learned sharing our story is powerful. I’ve heard from parents who noticed similar warning signs in their own children and sought help. After my first speech, an audience member invited me to talk to her psychiatric nurse practitioner class. She felt shocked by the lack of awareness about how digital harm and dependence can affect mental health. It also surprised her how long it took for my son to receive appropriate treatment. She wanted to ensure her class didn’t make the same mistake. Parents who were unaware of online dangers have now taken steps to keep their children safe and reprioritized time away from screens.
The First Warning Sign
So when did I first suspect something was awry? The answer for this has changed from when I first shared our story. Initially, it was the first time I realized my son was self-harming. Yet there was a subtler hint about 6-8 weeks earlier.
Towards the end of 8th grade, my son began to wear a makeup style known as corpse paint. I will not include a photo because the images are triggering for me, but you can see examples here. I’m no stranger to experimenting with different styles and pushing dress code boundaries. Tallest mall bangs at our small-town middle school? That was me. My mother disapproved of my black smudged eye makeup more than a decade before anyone called it “emo guyliner.” Oversized flannels layered over concert or baby tees and baggy jeans weren’t feminine (so glad we’ve moved beyond this; now at least I’m simply not dressing my age). Rolling my eyes, I told my mom she didn’t know anything because she was old. I promised myself I would be more laid-back about this stuff with my kids.
I tried so hard to let the corpse paint thing go, reminding myself of that promise, yet something gnawed at me. I felt there was more to this than style experimentation. It was over-the-top stage makeup, and it was scary. He started pushing serious boundaries with his outfits. His demeanor and personality started shifting.
I asked what inspired this style. He became very defensive. I didn’t know anything because I was old. The bands he listened to had makeup like this. I gently pointed out the difference between stage vs. daytime makeup. He participated in a local music performance program, so wearing corpse paint at shows may be reasonable. Not at school. He agreed, but most mornings he emerged from the bathroom with his face slathered in white, black, and red. Another day, another argument, another chance for me to prove how uncool I was. Before long, he tuned me out entirely, shifting from following the rules to circumventing them. He made himself up in the school bathroom so I couldn’t intervene. Classmates began to ostracize and pick on him. Friends began to distance themselves.
All of this is age-appropriate teenage behavior. I sought opinions from his father, his therapist, my friends, and family. Reactions split: Drag him to the bathroom and scrub that garbage off his face, or, ride out this teenage phase so he doesn’t totally rebel. I held my ground on appropriate vs. inappropriate appearances depending on the occasion.
My son insisted on wearing corpse paint to his 8th grade graduation ceremony. I was completely against it. His father sided with riding it out to prevent all out rebellion. After much arguing, which made us late to the ceremony, I swallowed my discomfort.
A few months ago, while curating photos to print for my growing stack of albums – one of my favorite analog activities – I came across the ceremony pictures. My breath caught. Numbness took over my body. Every photo showed a red flag I had rationalized. The same numbness and dissociation I experienced during the event came over me. I remembered the effort it took to shove down the feeling that something was going off the rails.
That gnawing intuition? Turns out corpse paint is popular in the 764, TCC, and NVE communities, as well as in the Black Metal music scene, which has strong themes of self-harm, suicide, and political extremism. This wasn’t the Gen Z equivalent of guyliner, it was a warning sign. Looking at those photos will always bring back the trauma of nearly losing my son.
Yes, corpse paint been around a long time (KISS, The Misfits are examples) and it’s not always tied to these communities. But the sudden change in appearance, shift in overall demeanor, and the beginnings of “us vs. them” language were all warning signs.
Warning Sign #2: Sudden Increase and Severity of Mental Health Symptoms
My son’s doctor prescribed an antidepressant about two months before this change in appearance. Therapy, exercise, and self-care had not been enough to help his mood for many months. His therapist, pediatrician, and I had several conversations about the pros and cons of medication, starting with a “wait and see if he improves” approach. Eventually, he told us he was miserable, nothing was helping, and he needed relief. He worried he would become suicidal. Within days, he started Prozac.
For a short time, the antidepressant helped, but trouble was brewing. His friend group since preschool imploded, and his girlfriend broke up with him. The two friends he had left began to drift away as well. With nothing to do and no friends over summer break, depression dragged him down. Screen time increased as his real-world connections and activities dwindled, leading to more arguments between us.
One afternoon, I heard him wailing. Bounding up the stairs two at a time and calling his name, I reached the top as he emerged from his room. Tears streamed down his face, and bloody scratches covered the length of his forearms. He fell to the floor, and I gathered him in my arms, my mind reeling. While mentally preparing to admit him to the hospital for a suicide attempt, I held him in a pressure hug, softly reassuring him that he would be okay. One half of my mind was on my son, the other on my younger daughter, who was witnessing the whole scene. Was she scared? Would she be okay? Would my son be okay?
As he calmed down, I did a safety check. Did he do this in an attempt to commit suicide? Did he feel suicidal or have any thoughts about it? He assured me he did not. He could not tell me why he had cut himself, but described a sudden urge that overcame him. He ripping the metal spiral out of his notebook and bloodied his skin with it. I promised to find help right now, and asked that he stay beside me while I called his therapist and pediatrician. I noted the time and planned to take him to the ER if I didn’t hear back within an hour. I hesitated to take him right away because I knew we would be sent you home unless he had a definitive plan or attempt at suicide. My son also made it clear the sensory stimulation would be unbearable and pointed out they didn’t help when I took him there after a 3+ hour Autistic meltdown years before. He felt betrayed and dismissed back then, but never shared until now.
I had limited knowledge or understanding of Non-Suicidal Injurious Behavior, or NSIB. In my mind, self-harm meant he was suicidal. When my son was diagnosed with autism many years ago, I remembered reading statistics in the handouts from his providers, highlighting that autistic people have higher rates of self-injury. However, the examples related to those higher on the classification scale, leaving out those like him. Not one of his providers talked to me about it.
The therapist and a nurse at the pediatrician’s office returned my call quickly. Both gave the same assessment – this was not an emergency. Self-harm is not the same as a suicide attempt. I pushed for more intensive therapy and/or treatment. I noted his mood only improved for a few weeks after starting the antidepressant, and his depression was worsening. Countless kids now experience severe depression and engage in self-harm, I was told. Increased mental health treatment isn’t always called for since experts understand it’s not an emergency. The fact that so many kids are self-harming contributed to this reasoning. Could the growing amount of time he was spending online be a factor? Kids are all online too much.
Not an emergency. Not an indication for increased treatment. An increase in his Prozac dosage was recommended. Stay the course with therapy. Both providers worked on a safety plan with him and me.
With the knowledge I now have about NSIB, I agree an incident doesn’t always mean a trip to the ER. But sticking to the status quo?
I felt dismissed. I felt stupid. I felt like I didn’t know how to take care of my own child, because apparently I was a hysterical, uncool, middle-aged mom who didn’t understand reality for teens now. Kids are on screens too much, they’re disconnected socially, they’re all depressed and cutting themselves. It’s all inevitable.
I obtained multiple lockboxes, securing every knife, pair of scissors, razors, and medications. My son continued with weekly therapy and started seeing a psychiatrist for medication management.
I wish I could end here. I wish I could say that with continued treatment, eventually finding happiness and weaning off his medication. I wish I could say this was a small bump in the road, a distant memory.
This was only the beginning.
It would take another 6 months before anyone would take me seriously. We’re so lucky he held on that long.
Part II of this series will be published next week.
- My son granted me permission to share his story with the public. The first time I was invited to speak about his journey from the brink of Nihilistic Violent Extremism to recovery, we explored the pros and cons. We also clarified our “why.” He set boundaries. There was no question in his mind – if our story could raise awareness and save others, we had to do this. He wasn’t comfortable talking about it himself back then and still finds it difficult. He wants to focus on his ongoing recovery and being a kid while he still can. We revisit this conversation often.
- None of my writing serves as medical advice or a professional diagnosis. It is for educational and informational purposes only. I cannot replace your child’s pediatrician, therapist, or psychiatrist. I’m a mom who runs her mouth too much, kept her kid alive by the skin of her teeth, and wants to keep kids safe online. What we did may not work for your family. Please consult medical and mental health professionals.
- For urgent mental health help, call 988 or visit the nearest Emergency Room. If you suspect a loved one is involved in extremism, or if you are, call the Parents for Peace hotline at 844-497-3223. This isn’t an emergency number and isn’t manned 24/7. You can also visit their website at www.parents4peace.org.
