hi i am new to this sight and just wanted to say that i have depression and problems with people and talking i am a cutter and very suicidal. so i kinda need some help and ideas on anything that could help me. i am only 18 and im a very shy girl

I'm not sure what I should do, I had a dream and my therapist was in my dream, by the way the dream was NOT sexual. I am wondering if I should tell him about my dream or not????

So i've never written a post ever on any forum, ever, and since things have changed for me recently, i'd decide to give this a go. Might not come back to this but i want to get whats in my head out there and see if anyone has anything to say about me and my problems.
My problems: I care about my family too much. I'm almost certain that I have depression, mild anxiety and a myriad of other mental health problems but I've never been properly diagnosed because I care about my family too much to have them worry about me at all. I also come from a culture where mental health is not a 'real' problem, but rather a thing for the weak or the bored.
I think about death a lot BUT i'm not suicidal. I'm fine with death and i'm not scared of it but I would never be able to go through with it as long as my parents are alive because I can't put them through all that pain. If they died though, I would have not much of a reason to keep going, but that is not the point of this post.
I've always been very aware of my issues and i've always been able to talk myself down in my head like there was a third person that tells the two conflicting voices in my head what to do. This third voice sounds like a trusty friend, insightful parent, or even a advising counsellor, when i think about it. This voice knows what people views as normal and suppresses my arguing voices to make me seem 'normal'. It usually takes effort but I know it works because everyone thinks I'm still this smiley, happy girl, which really hasn't been the case since about 7 years ago (when my first encounter of death in the family happened)
My dog (who's been with me for almost 15 years) died yesterday and I was sad but it wasn't a fearful, regretful sadness. It was more of a "i'll miss you" and "we've spent good time together" happy sadness, though it was really sudden and shocking. I still miss him but I don't think I'm doing too bad. My parents on the other hand haven't been able to sleep, eat, not spontaneously cry, and not talk about morbidity every couple of hours. They also hug me a lot because they think its comforting for me, and probably themselves too.
I guess what I'm saying is that is it weird that I'm so aware of what I'm almost sure I have? Does this mean I don't have these mental health issues because it doesn't really affect my daily life and I know what triggers it, how to control it, and what works/doesn't work? Do other people with mental health issues experience this too?
An analogy (if you're still reading): I deal with my problems like dealing with my period. When it starts, I know what I can do to not let it leak out for the world to see. I know what the best way to deal with the dirty pad/tampon is, to chuck it out (feeling all my feelings/non-feelings but in a physical location where no one will see me then throw them out or at least leave them where they can't be seen). I clean up after myself and flush the bloody mess away (make sure no one can physically see or pick out that I have problems at any point of any time)
What do you think?

----Every new day can change one's life; Every new experience can deepen the realm within ones world. These notions run parallel, to the story of Johnny and The Cupcake Girl----

(Character Background. If looking for eroticism, skip to next chapters.)

Prelude: Aromatic Cupcakes

The sun was beaming through the cracks of the curtains - Johnny woke up, always curious as to what the day would entail. Getting ready for work at the store was a very systematic process for him. Every slight movement, down to the way he dried off his vascular body after a steaming shower, was replicated with exact precision.

Coffee and cigarettes. The fix of the morning, yet today they seemed ever so weak. Bitter sensations on the tongue - Johnny needing something new.. Something sweet.

His inner world was intense. Always maneuvering, always watching - ever changing. Those simpletons who he sped by on the inter-state know no sensation similar to the ones concocted by Johnny's dis-inhibited mind.

Many are curious, but few truly venture. Today was the day, like so many before, that one curious, light-hearted being, would accept any contingencies within coffee shop: The Cupcake Girl. After all, what was life for the young girl without knowledge of the unknown? She was so full of life, full of energy, but being virgin to many experience which she knew exist, felt like a ghost on a winding path.. She was so confused about the world.. People and their intentions.. What she wanted.. What she stood for.. The Cupcake Girl needed something stable - Something definite. Something, to hold on to.

Unbeknownst to the depths of the labyrinth, The Cupcake Girl took the leap of faith that was so intrinsic to her nature, and necessary to develop her ever curious mind regarding that of which she had no experience.

Her name was Pricilla. And she smelled exactly like she looked.

My mom wants me to get rid of my scars...But i find i really don't want too. I don't not want to wake up and not see them there on my left shoulder, on my left wrist and my right hip bone. Sick? Very, i know. My own mom looked at me like i was crazy when i told her, which i probably am. No healthy person cuts themselves, that's obvious. Or at least in my case, used too.

I stopped cutting maybe a couple of months before high school graduation but it wasn't due to my mother finding me out. Instead my boyfriend did and made me promise to never do it again, cutting my mother to the punch line. My mom found out a month after him, i believe. She didn't believe me when i told her i stopped, so i gave her the scissors i used to hurt myself. That was my second step to stopping i guess. My third had to be when she got me medicine to take away the scars...but now on the fourth step, actually putting the stuff on, i'm stuck.

I've put it on once or twice but not religiously. I hate the idea of them not being there. They give me comfort and make me feel better. Am i wrong in wanting them there?