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Going Out Out

Last night I went out. I went out with the school mums. This time last week I was in a psychiatric hospital. Crying everytime anyone spoke to me and taking 2 naps a day. I didn't want to go. I didn't reply to excited planning messages. I made myself go. It was a fun night but throughout I was plagued with guilt. How could I be enjoying myself when a week ago I nearly died. How could I be dancing away when my husband's heart was heavy with worry. How could I be smiling when I had hurt those around me. Towards the end of the evening it changed. What would I do if I just left now? Nobody would notice until morning. There would be no police call. For that reason I stayed until the end. So I wasn't alone. The photos of a smiling me are on facebook. You can't see the battle going on behind the laughing and dancing. The guilt. The doubt. The 'why on earth did they invite a boring and horrible person like me' thoughts. They can't see the shattered mind that lies behind it. Today I am exhausted. I did have fun. The fun was marred by the constant battle in my head though.

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