I pulled into the parking lot of my Pdoc and burst into tears. I sat in my car for a while, deciding whether or not to go in, I had my paper in my hand reading-Please Help Me!!! I want to stay. Help Me!!-I read this over and over again,hands trembling I reached for my blade-put it to my skin, and cut, hoping the pain would leave, then my door opens-it is my partner, she took the blade away from me and helped me to the front door of my Pdoc. How did she know, all these things going through my mind, as I am trembling with fear and pain.All I told her was that I was going to see the Pdoc,how did she know. I fell apart literally at my Pdoc's office, both my Pdoc and partner decided that it was best that I go in for a bit. She made the call and over we went, I really wanted to just escape and bury myself in black hole, where I deserved to be. The pain, the fear, the cutting has taken over me, if you have ever been rock bottom, you know what I mean, there was no other escape for me, I was bleeding pain from the inside, no one could help me, I could not help myself. The medications were not working. My life had one way and one way only-destruction and day by day I was destructing. So I did what the intake nurse told me to, gave my belongings except what my partner had packed for me-clothes-no earrings, no rings, no cell phone, no pens, no nothing and a big one for me-no razors, or knives. I felt like I was stripped of everything, my last short stay I told myself I was never coming back here-and here I am again. The bloodwork, the new meds, the therapy, the cold rooms, the smell of coldness. The white sheets, the nurses coming in every few minutes to make sure I am okay, just leave me alone I said -but all they said was we have to do this, yea whatever, you took my razors and knives and pens away-there is nothing in here to try to hurt myself with. The medication changes were hell, the therapy-i hated it, they make me breakdown everytime i see them. Every time I say I am not going to be weak, but they break down my wall, they get to me. I hate them. I am okay just leave me alone, let me just sleep, leave me alone I would say. As the days went by I started to heal a bit, not healed by any means, but slowly I am trying- new meds and therapy are helping little by little-the want to cut is still there, not sure if it will ever go away-the pain, well for now I still feel it, maybe one day I can let it all go. Maybe one day I can say I am happy for now I will just say I am okay, some days I am better than others, the days when I say I am okay, I am hurting, I hurt everyday, it hurts to breathe, it hurts to do much of anything, but I have to keep going. I'm not going to say I will never go back to the hospital-it did help stablize me for now, and now I know that when I get back to that bad place, I now know that either I go further down or I get help. Both are hard. I hope everyone understands that this is not easy for me, and as I sit here typing this I am in tears, tears of hurt, tears of pain. I feel ashamed about all of this, but I can not change what has happened- I am a cutter I am bipolar I have BPD I have anxiety I was abused I was raped I am hurting but I have to make it. Life has dealt me a really bad hand, I just have to continue to play that hand.