We all learned in elementary school that one should never run with scissors. Even though the scissors we had could barely cut anything, we were taught to close them carefully, grasp the shears with the pointy end angled down to the floor, and then carefully transport them to a desired location. Failure to follow these steps meant endangering the eyeballs of our fellow classmates. Teachers and parents drummed the danger of sharp objects into our malleable little minds.

If the lesson didn’t quite stick, a painful experience brought about by rushing and a lack of forethought would likely result in a stinging puncture wound, and a trip to the nurse.

To this day I still carry scissors the way I learned in first grade. As I say in referee training classes: “safety never takes a holiday.” I’ve come to learn that the same maxim applies at psychiatric hospitals and treatment centers. The difference being at the hospital I was forced to grow scruff - no sharp objects ever! At this center I get to sign out my razor, make myself presentable, and then check it in when finished.

Why? Because all the residents have some experience with self harm, and the residential staff needs to know who has sharp stuff. This process doesn’t prevent someone like me from cutting themselves, but it does put a time limit on care if I did. The staff would recognize that it doesn’t take 25 minutes to shave my face and come to investigate; had I self-harmed I would receive rapid care.

But why risk that possibility? Why not just ban all sharp implements? I can tell the treatment center leaders are attempting a careful balance of care with treating me like an adult. It is infantilizing to be told that I cannot shave, or, if allowed, only under close supervision. The subtext is that I have no control over my behavior, which, paradoxically, urges me on to more impulsive behavior.

I like the balance at this center. I get that I must sign for my razor, but at least I get to use it and no one is watching me get my beard lines trimmed to the specifications that I prefer. I get to feel like a responsible adult by shaving. It gets me closer to my normal routine in the outside world, making the eventual transition much more seamless than if the staff restricted me to a scruffier outer appearance.