My Journey To Normality (Part 2)

Happy Valentine's Day, be thankful for your loved ones because not everyone has any. Maybe it's because of the day, or because I've been asked so many times in the last few days about what friends and family I have, but yesterday I sent out a few messages to people I've pushed away in the past. The messages were all quite similar, I apologised for any behaviour that may have hurt them, it said that I knew they only meant to help and that I push everyone away as a way to rationalise destructive behaviour. It didn't matter if the person actually was in the wrong and were the one who hurt me, people are selfish and sometimes you've got to be the bigger person in a situation. I sent out five messages and four of them have been read, three of them I've had replies back.
Jack was the first to see the message, but they didn't replay. I'm actually happy they didn't reply, the reason we stopped talking was completely on them, I had done nothing wrong to cause them to act in that way. Abigail from work was the next to reply and they have BPD so they understood more. Abigail told me that I had done nothing wrong and they understood completely. After that Harriet replied, they're the one that kept calling the police on me in December. Harriet was more concerned that they didn't know what to do and felt bad because they just wanted to help, but I reassured them that they did everything right and could of done nothing more. Mandy then replied, accepted my apology, but made it clear she wanted nothing to do with me. I'm kinda relieved about that, Mandy really has changed and is no longer a person I would want in my life and to be honest they weren't very good at handling having a suicidal friend. The only person who has not seen the message is Georgie.

Other then that I've just been settling in at the hospital. They finally found me a bed but it's in a hospital three hours away from my flat, they're trying to find a place closer but there's no beds at the moment. This place is so different to the last psychiatric hospital I was in, I feel like it's so posh that I don't belong here. I have my own room, that's ensuite, it has a double bed, a desk and even a sofa in the room. The kitchen has food in it, a kettle, cutlery and plates. I know that sounds like nothing but at the other hospital we weren't trusted with cutlery, the plates were paper, we definitely weren't allowed near boiling water and I spent three months in a dorm with two other people. It feels as if I'm walking on eggshells and if I put one foot wrong I'll be out on the street. Feels like I can't be myself, like I can't give in to urges of self harm or suicidal thoughts or they'll know I shouldn't be here. I know that makes no sense considering this is a psychiatric hospital at the end of the day. I just can't wait to go back home, I should of never let myself get admitted.