I went to T today, and she was asking me how my week was... I told her it hadn't been great, etc, and also that I was concerned about my meds (beta blockers) slowing my heart rate too much. She asked to feel my pulse, and reached for my wrist. The left one. I turned it over to her, a couple of scars visible. She didn't comment. A while later we were talking about a job I'd applied for, and I expressed my concern about wearing a uniform. I regretted the words as soon as they were out my mouth. She wanted to know why. Short sleeves. "Your arms?" Yes. Well, my left one. "Because you're right handed." Yes. She asked if I'd been cutting recently. I didn't know what to say. I'd not wanted to tell her I'd been doing it again, I've always given her the impression it was in the past -- I thought it was. But, I also could not bring myself to lie to her. "Not much" I finally said. I felt so ashamed, I couldn't even look up. It made me sad to confess, but in a way also a relief. If she knows about it, maybe she's in a better position to help me. I think it's a good thing that I've been completely honest. I hope it is. But, I still want to crawl into a hole.