I knew it was going to happen. I can only be thankful I stopped myself from going so deep as to need stitches. Although one of them might need a couple, they all need glued, but I can’t face a&e. I know the scars are going to be really bad if I don’t get the wounds seen too, I also have nothing to properly clean them with, have just tied a bandage round and hoped I could pretend they had disappeared because I could no longer see them.
I know I’m going to have to take myself to a&e. I tried to tell best friend what I’d done with the hope she would offer to come with me or something. Instead, I got the response of, “you know that if you keep this up you will either end up sectioned again and/or not able to work with young people”. Then the obligatory “why did you do it?” and of course I had no answer except for “I lost control of things”. Then she went offline and now I don’t know whether to text her, whether to go to a&e by myself, whether to just leave the bandage on and pray these ones don’t get infected. I don’t know what to do.
It was supposed to give me a release. It was supposed to make me feel better. And now… I just feel even worse.
I wish I hadn’t told best friend. I wish I hadn’t told anyone. I wish I had kept it to myself. I wish I hadn’t done it. But it’s done now and I have to make the decision of whether to get medical help or not.
Confused. Feel like crap. Don’t know what to do.