On purpose, I mean. I came home from classes today to my parents having a heart-to-heart with my younger (I’m 24, she just turned 22) sister. At first, all I got from any of them is that today, she’d sought counseling at her university and that my mother had come picked her up (Sis is a commuter who usually drives herself.).
She’s been seeing a psychologist bi-weekly for several years now - she’s had problems with depression since she was a young teenager. She hasn’t seen the psychologist for a month or two, as the woman is on maternity leave. She also sees a psychiatrist & uses Prozac. Saw the psychiatrist a few weeks ago.
I asked her, in my parents presence, what had happened. She said that she’d felt really horrible & had gone to the counseling center. I asked what exactly happened, if she’d had a crying jag during the day or something, but she said she didn’t want to discuss it.
I went into the other room, within earshot, while she talked with my parents. I happened to hear my father ask her whether she’s been having suicidal ideations; she said that she hasn’t. After they left to pick up her car at school, I asked her whether she’d tried to hurt herself. She’d cut herself on the arm with an Exacto knife, she said, a few times since this past Monday. She showed me the cuts, saying that they look worse than they are.
I’m kinda surprised I managed to stay so calm with her - she was afraid to tell me, actually: She didn’t want to freak me out. Right now, my hands are shaking and I’m tearing up. My little sister effing cut herself. I mean, I went through my battles with depression as well, and I did have suicidal ideations, though I never made an attempt.
We talked about why she did it (frustration, sadness, fear), and she said that the fact that she’d cut herself had scared her - that’s why she sought help at school. She hopes she won’t do it again, she says; she doesn’t want to. She said she had to throw out the knife - she did it in my presence. That comforted me a bit. I asked her whether I could look at her arms from time to time, to make sure she wasn’t cutting, and she agreed.
I now find myself scared to leave her alone without asking what she’s doing. After she told me, she went into the bathroom, then into the other room to read. Both times, I found myself asking her what she was doing. I apologized for that, but she said that she understood. Her psychologist just called now.
Man. What a thing to come home to.