I have been out of the hospital for a week now; my first admitted suicide attempt. I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder, which I feel is fitting. I've suffered with this as long as I can remember; my parents started me in therapy when I was 7 at the urging of my school counselor who had been seeing me for a year and a half. I was in therapy until I was 13, about the time that my parents marriage was ending. They didn't have the time to devote to my petty problems; my mother handing me a <edit total eclipse method> and asking me to just kill myself already and my father playing drunken Russian roulette with my head. I placed myself in the psych ward because I cheated on my husband. In our bed. And the man that I cheated with stole a very large amount of cash from my husband. I'm scared to death. Scared to tell my husband the truth. My friends know what happened, and they're pushing me to tell him. What's hurting me is that everyone is approaching me like I hurt them. Like my attempt inconvenienced them. "I can't believe you'd do this. You have a daughter. You could have come to me. It hurts me so much. I'm so depressed because to did this..." The truth is, my daughter is the reason that I'm still here. She would have no financial back up to support her future if I were gone. I don't want to do this anymore. I just east to go to sleep and never wake up. I don't care that everyone is hurting because I'm hurting. They're not helping me. I sit alone all night because my husband leaves and my friends are so mad they don't want to see me. But, it wasn't better before. They never took the time to acknowledge me before. I just wish I could fade into the blackness and forget that I was a person.