Welcome to my Nightmare

This time my break from cutting would last a day or two longer than the previous but I had a compulsion. Something inside me told me to even though I knew it was wrong. I took seamstress scissors to my forearm and began making the cuts. Three long lines, probably an inch or more in length. Not deep but enough that I could watch myself bleed. I did it, at first I had great satisfaction in my efforts. But then I knew I could never hide them and that someone would notice. I also knew that I had a sickness. I didn't know if it could be treated at home. Again, I confessed. I made a deal with my mom, I wanted to sleep in my own bed for one last night and then first thing in the morning she could take me to the hospital. She agreed. I was thankful but also hoping that she might change her mind and not take me. She would allow me to stay home. No such luck, she took me. We played the waiting game. I would talk to a nurse, crisis nurse, social worker, psychiatrist and emergency room doctor. I was dreading having to speak with the shrink. Two patients before me had left the room crying after speaking with him. I was nervous, my name was called. I went in, expecting the worst but he wasn't so bad. He and I had a longdiscussion, the conclusion being that I voluntarily check myself in to the hospital. It was my nightmare come true. I knew the decision was ultimately mine but deep down, I knew that my mom would be very upset if I had not stayed. She was already feeling as though hospital personnel weren't taking my complaints and concerns as seriously as they should. So I agreed. I came back and told my mom that they were looking for a bed for me in the psychiatric unit. It was at that moment I was angry with her. I knew I shouldn't be but I was. I wanted to tell her to go home and leave me alone. I wanted to blame her but I couldn't. She didn't cut me, she didn't force me to harm myself. I put myself in this situation and now I had to deal with it.