It’s not all about me

Noone really talks about how your mental health affects those around you.

All the conversation are about me and getting me the help I need.

And I’m not discussing my children here. At the moment I cannot even contemplate the effect my actions have had on them.

Its my husband I worry about.

Men are taught from such a young age to bury their emotions. Don’t let them show.

So he’s doing what he knows best and is just soldiering on.

Noone is phoning in to check on him.

Noone is offering him support through this difficult time.

Noone is seeing his silent struggle except me.

But he doesn’t want to learn on me as I’m already broken.

But I see him.

He’s on edge the whole time.

He’s following me around the house like a prison guard, even when I go to the loo, petrified I’ll do something again when his back is turned.

He’s managing my meds and making sure I eat.

He hasn’t been sleeping either.

The bedroom door is shut, yet he still flinches at every move incase I’m disappearing off to do again what I had promised him I wouldnt.

For him trust has always been a big thing, and I’m scared Ive lost his. And not sure how it could be repaired.

Whilst thoughts of him and the kids were what stopped me from taking my actions further, I didn’t think about him seeing what I’d done when I called out for help.

Of the sink, the mess, the marks on my skin.

I’d waited for him to be distracted and for that he carries guilt. Guilt that his working day had taken his attention for that short time so it must be his fault. He misses the point that I was calculated. I’d been waiting for that moment.

He knows I cannot make promises that this will never happen again. I wish I could, as this person here today is not who I want to be either. But mental illness doesn’t always give you those choices.

Making him feel helpless, making him feel guilty were never my intent.

In my depression and my struggle I acted selfishly. I had not looked further than my own struggles in that moment of time and how I felt there and then.

And as much as I can’t erase the scars I will undoubtedly be left with, I cannot magically repair the hurt that I have put on him either.

I just hope in time like scars, it will fade and our relationship will be what it once was again.

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