Last year, when I was very ill, a good friend of mine called my Dad. I was hurt and confused and, as I didn’t fully realise how unwell I had become, I was also puzzled. Later on, that same friend had to take a break from me: I was draining and exhausting her and she needed to stay stable and safe herself. Looking after me was making that difficult for her. When she told me that I was angry and hurt. For a long time when I thought over it, I felt upset that she hadn’t been there for me when I had (I thought) always been there for her. A long time later she said she was sorry for what had happened but that it had been the right thing to do. Feeling better and more level, I understood and agreed. She was in a horrible position and the only way to save our friendship was to take a few steps back from it, if only for a little while.
And now I have found myself doing the same thing to another person. Only now can I understand fully how hard it was for my friend to tell me how she felt about the situation, to urge me to get help before I did any further damage to myself, to the friendship, or to anybody else. It is heartbreaking, and difficult. But sometimes the heartbreaking and difficult course is the right one to take. I hope.