I don’t like blood.
It makes me sick.
When I was in Waltham Behavioral Psych ward, I used to cut my belly with a plastic knife. I was proud of myself so I saved the knife that had a drop of blood on it as a souvenir.
That visit to the psych ward was when I was at my lowest point. I cut my belly SO much that it hurt to sit. I had a white flowery tee and the blood soaked through it.
Every time I looked at my belly I got depressed. I cut in clear sight of the staff hoping and praying they would catch me…I didn’t know how to ask for help!