Letting Go and Walking Out

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This story contains graphic or mature content.

Okay, so I told y’all what happened Christmas Eve, now here’s what happened Christmas Day. I was overwhelmed and went into one of my cutting spells. At this point, I’m tired of the same old routine and cycle. I wanted it to stop but didn’t know how, so I called a intervention crisis place near where I live. At first I was scared, but all that’s going through my head at this point is I need help, and I don’t know any other way to get it. The lady asked me if I was cutting tonight; I didn’t respond, and I hung up the phone. So here come the police, which didn’t surprise me; I was relieved. At this point, my boyfriend is trying to play like oh, my poor baby, what’s going on. I told the police to get him the fuck away from me and they did and told him to leave. One of the officers I knew well  (he is one that comes out all the time, he tells me, “Mandy I know you want help or you wouldn’t have made that call”) asked me to please go to the hospital. I agreed to on the condition that he went with me, and he did. He stayed by my side for four hours. I spent the night in the hospital and I’m glad I did because now they set me up with a counselor, meds, a psychologist, and something they call a crisis management lady, which from there they will help me get a pfa relocate and then other stuff. Am I scared? Hell ya. I’m scared to live what they call a normal life, but at this point a normal life is better than no life. Once again, thank you everyone for your support. And to the other women who are going through what I am, good luck to you


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