The title says it, my mom found my cuts and my therapist is going to send me to a mental hospital due to being suicidal. So, if anyone has any advice, stories, anything, help would be enjoyed. Also a list of what I need to take with me.
My mom canceled my therapy session for yesterday and it’s a week from now. I was going to tell my therapist about my suicidal ‘attempt’ I guess you can call it, my wrist didn’t even slice so I don’t think it counts. I have been writing in a book everyday, so I can give it to her. I think telling her myself would be to hard, after that I will get sent to a mental hospital I already know. I want to be there for a long stay, not a short little one, those don’t do shit. A long stay gives them time to help you for real, not just tell you don’t do it again and be happier then send you out into the world. But, whatever, I don’t even know anymore.
That’s what I say, every single time. I was told I’m too young to depressed my mother. She doesn’t understand. I’m 13 at the time of writing this and I look at my legs and don’t see skin, I see cuts. I can’t stand looking at my thin legs, everyone calls me anorexic. I’m not, but I’m thin, too thin. I over eat and can’t gain anything. I have tried it all and nothing works. All the bullying I have gotten of it is SICKENING! I thought being thin was what everyone wants? But all I want is to be normal. It’s bullshit, I just sit there sometimes, staring at my legs and running my hands over the cuts. I tried to end it all once, but the blade was too dull. It’s just stupid.
I was cutting last night, I couldn’t take it, there goes my month of being clean. I sliced my arm, legs, and then. I placed the razor on my wrist, and sliced, it didn’t cut, I tried once more, and it didn’t cut. Then I just dropped to the ground. I sobbed for a while, and when I went to school my friend checked my arms, as we do to each other everyday to make sure we don’t cut. We both cut last night, both after a month of being clean.
I haven’t told her I almost killed myself. I think I might tell my therapist tomorrow, anyone got some mental hospital stories so I know what might happen. Anyone ever told there therapist they want to kill themselves? I’m a teen so I know they will take it more serious than an adult. But that’s about it.
How are you all?
I vomited twice today, I sat in the bathroom for a good five minutes before my friend found me, and held me. She took me back to class after I stopped crying and went to her own. I wish I had classes with her, I really like her. I ate Chinese food, and I read the stupid little fortune your give with them. It was pretty ironic ‘Do not give up, the beginning is always the hardest.’ But I’ve already given up.
I’ve spend every fucking of my life wanting to die. I’m only 13 and I’ve dealt with a lot. So where should I start? How about when my father left my mother because she was pregnant, because he was married. My mother of coarse didn’t know, she isn’t a homewrecker. But he didn’t want me, and my mother didn’t even know about be until she was over 6 months pregnant. She didn’t show and still got her period, when she did show she went to the doctor and they told her she was pregnant. She didn’t want me either, but she kept me. The only time I’ve ever met my father was when I was three, I have the faintest memory of my little self running up to a man and yelling ‘Daddy!’ as he picked me up and set me on his lap. My mother has tried to contact him many times, and he doesn’t want anything to do with me. My mother has never been married, or dated anyone after him. So I’ve never really had a father figure.
Now lets get into my childhood, how about we start with the fifth grade? That’s when I started to get bullied, we had a health teacher from high school come in and talk about eating disorders, health, you know all that bullshit. At that time in my life, I was around 45 pounds, I’ve always been small, VERY small. I’m only 4’9 in height and 56 pounds right now. I’m perfectly health I guess, besides the curve in my spine, and other things, but it doesn’t affect me in my daily life. I eat like a cow, but the teacher was talking about it and asked everyone who was from 60-80 pounds in the class to raise there hands, I didn’t and everyone else but the one overweight girl did. The teacher asked me how much I weighed and I said ’45 pounds miss.’ (I have always been a good child.) She looked at me and walked out, pulling me from my seat and in front of the class, incredibly loudly asked ‘Are you anorexic?!’ I said no, because I’m not. She took it upon herself to call my mother and tell her she thinks I’m anorexic and to watch me, from then on, everyone calls me anorexic and I lost all of my friends. My depression got really bad after that.
I was home schooled for sixth grade and that just worsened my depression, I’m an outgoing person, so not having human contact fucked me up. So for seventh grade I went back to school. (I’m in seventh grade right now) We have had a ton of money problems, my mother and I fight all the time because we are both stressed. She had to take the money I’ve saved up for two years to pay for rent and she has yet to pay me back. Now we are living at the beach and things are more stable, but I was told I have clinical depression and serve anxiety. Now I’m going to a therapist, I just started and I’m going for the second session on Wednesday, but I’m still dealing with being called anorexic. I was told by one of my three friends that they over heard some people say. ‘The definition of anorexic is “My name”‘ and everyone laughed. I am bullied still due to it, and I’ve told teachers, everyone and nobody gives a single shit. So at this point I want to kill myself. I already know how I would. I’d take some sleeping pills on New Year’s Eve. Then when the new year starts, I’m left behind in the old. I read it in a book and I mean I think it’s a pretty good way to go.
I think the only way that I might not kill myself is going to a mental hospital, to get away from all the BULLSHIT that is my life. For a long stay too, not just like a week, I mean for fifty days or something. My mother would never put me in a mental hospital even if my therapist wanted me to go to one. She thinks the medication and therapy will keep me from killing myself. I have cut before, never to deep and I’m a month clean, lets hope I can keep it that way. But I would love to go anywhere but where I am now. So yeah, that’s my story? I hope my mom will come to her senses and send me somewhere so I don’t kill myself. Bye.