My “friend” told my mom when I was 16 that I cut myself. I had been doing it for about a year and a half. She kept me out of school the next day and brought me to the Emergency Mental Health Ward. I was interviewed by a psychiatrist or psychologist or whatever. I was already afraid of hospitals - doctors, needles, crazy patients like in the movies - so I lied. I lied through my teeth about why I cut myself. I said I didn’t know. I said my friends convinced me to do it. I said anything I had to in order to not be committed. My mom thinks I haven’t cut myself since.
I’m 23 now. The last time I cut myself was 2 years ago I think. It’s hard to remember because it all blends together. Time, I mean. I am still depressed. I still want to cut myself, but I don’t want to disappoint my fiance. So instead I hold it in.
I wish I was brave enough to go to the hospital. I feel like I am a danger to myself. But I am terrified to go simply because it is a hospital. There’s a stigma. There’s scary doctors. I come up with reasons not to go. This coming fall I will be living on campus at whatever school I get into to finish my Bachelor’s. I will be away from my fiance. in a new place. with no one I know. with the stress of school and working. and I am terrified. The question is: Which am I more terrified of - being committed, or myself?