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It Hurts

I suffer from chronic depression and have made several suicide attempts in the past two years. I had a friend who supported me through this. Someone I have known for ten years. We were very close and I thought of her as a sister. In january this year I made another attempt. I slit my wrists. I have very little recollection of what happened or even where I did it. I came round in a police station dripping blood everywhere and was taken to hospital where I was stitched back together. My wrists were in a hell of a state I counted up to 120 stitches before I gave up. I was also operated on to repair damaged tendons.
I was kept in hospital for two days before I was transfered to a psychiatric unit. Not my first stay there. I decided that I would not tell anyone about what happened until I was discharged. Unfortunately my friend must have tried to contact me and figured out where I was. She phoned the unit and asked me if I was going to tell her I was in there. I told her yes, but when I'd got out. This was the last time she spoke to me.
The reason I was not going to tell her was because she had been the one who has had to cope with me and my illness. I did not feel right about putting her through more worry and upset. I wanted to be able to tell her after this particular crisis was over to spare her the worst of it.
Maybe I did the wrong thing, but my intentions were good. She has cut me off completely. At first I was devestated by this, now all I feel is resentment.
I now feel that a friend is someone that hasn't disappointed you yet. Though I do realise this does apply to me as well.
Jezburg Jezburg 41-45 Jun 23, 2010

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