You’re finally reaching out. It’s like your finally getting a glimpse at how broken I am. You still don’t know about the scars on my wrist or the repulsive urge to kill myself that plagues me nearly every day, but you at least see me better. You see that I’m not sleeping enough, even if you just reprimand me for it instead of asking why I can’t sleep. You even asked me about my OCD today. You told me there is treatment for that. You asked if my patterns/symptoms were getting worse; I almost told the truth, I said they were starting to. You said I had to tell you if they get worse.
But I can’t do it. I can’t ask you to get me treatment. Treatment means others will realize there is something wrong with me. It means people will be disappointed that I’m just another “gifted” child that’s smart with books and socially retarded, unable to function as a human. I can’t ask you to pay for treatment; I hear the meds, usually antidepressants are given for OCD, are expensive. How could I become a burden like that?
Unless… Am I more of a burden like this? Is there really some magic pill I can swallow to regain control of my mind? If treatment works, then it could be better for all of us. I could become that person I used to be. The girl that was always happy. That kid that could do anything and get along with everyone. I could feel human again. I could make you proud again.
I don’t know if I can do it, Mom, thanks for reaching out to me but I haven’t decided yet if I’ll accept and get treatment.
3 comments
I’d say do it if you know that’s what you want deep down
You should try it.
You won’t become a burden. If they are offering to get you help you should at least give it a shot.