My Crisis Part 1

‘Well I just survived one of the hardest days in my life. To be honest, the morning was alright but the afternoon was absolutely horrendous. I was quite happy to begin with as I was making progress by not having bad thoughts for a few days and having been granted leave, for me a sign that I was getting better. Then came the leave itself. First job was to rush home to say goodbye to Bobwho was being put down. It was heartbreaking seeing the normally enthusiastic border collie who was no more than a pup lying there unabe to move and in pain even through the anaesthetic. What I’d have given to see him allowed another chance at life, even if it cost me my own, because he didn’t deserve that. He’d already had chances, he’d survived an attempt to kill him, he’d then been written off as a pet as he’d be nasty towards people, but then he’d been rehomed with my parents and with calm work was allowed to be a puppy, playing with the other dogs and bounding around like a complete nut case when family turned up, welcoming them and wanting fuss. He really didn’t deserve such a shitty end like that.

So I cried, so did my parents, and we went our sepereate ways. My girlfriend took me home and I went through the motions, crying a fair bit but still needed to clear my head so went for a drive by myself. I could see that my girlfriend wasn’t happy about that but it was what I needed.So off I went and ended up heading towards [location] so I thought I’d head back to the ward to see about my meds for my leave, two birds one stone thing. Got to the ward n was coping ok with the loss of Bob and was on a friend who admitted to taking an overdose. So off rushes Super Me to the rescue. Ok a bit sarcastic there but I couldn’t ignore the information and then ended up at her house trying toconvince her that, whilst the amount she’d taken probably wouldn’t kill her, she needed to go to the hospital rather than sit in a doctors surgery to be told exactly the same thing.

During the preparations which took ages with plenty of accidental and prposeful delaying by my friend, I thought to ring my girlfriend as I’d said I wouldn’t be long yet had been a while. Just as I was looking up her number she rang me which led to me explaining the situation and her being upset and angry with me, understandably so. On the road again and making good time whilst doing my best to keep my friend awake, we got to A&E and all the joys of the waiting room where she was seen as I liased with her family. At about half seven one of her family turned up and I was released to go sort my stuff out.

Back on the road to the ward to pick up my meds , feeling like crap but getting on with things. Spoke to [staff], explained how my day was going and uttered the bloody prophetic words ‘If I get through today without wanting to kil myself then I know I’m cured’.

Ah well, meds picked up, [staff]’s reassurances in my head, I headed home to see how upset my partner was as she’d ignored my texts, even after appologising for not having called her sooner. I’d say I’m feeling depressed, or at least mentally drained from my day, at this point, it certainly wasn’t good to be thinking about crashing my car (written off as the damn thing is too safe to kill me). Arrived home and the lights are off which isn’t a promising sign but in I go. Looked for my girlfriend and found her curled up in a corner on the upstairs landing. I moved towards her, she moved away, tried again with the same result, think I tried a third time and only the wall prevented her from being any further away but that didn’t stop her trying.

And that was it, the tipping point. Downstairs and into the kitchen I go, open up the meds, damn, only six, nowhere near enough to kill me. My girlfriend comes down and stands across the kitchen from me and says ‘So what do you want to do?’. ‘Make a phone call’I reply ‘because I want to kill myself’. Off I trolley into the front room, lights off, and place the call. [staff], bless him, did his best to talk me round but I was too far gone and hung up on him. I spotted one of the curtain ties which were made from rope and found it conveniently had a sliding knot built in, tested it on myself, perfect, even the wall hook should be strong enoughto do the job as long as I don’t drop on it I mused. Took the loop off and hid it just in case I was interupted while I composed my final text which would be sent to three people.

My girlfriend came into the front room but I ignored her with the intention that she would give up and go away so I’d be free to get on with it. Unfortunately she read what I was writing and took my phone off me. That was when my brain shut down and went into basic mode. What that meant was talking wasn’t an option, written communication was shaky at best, and my only thoughts were to fulfill basic needs such as cold feet so I put my shoes back on.

From there on my girlfriend sorted out with [staff], who had called back, my return to the wardas I had something to eat. Got hold of my basics and back on the road for the final time to deliver me to the ward. By the time we got there all I wanted to do was sleep, so after a brief meeting with [staff] I was shown to my room where I promtly set about fulfilling that need.

And so here we are. I’ve had about four hours sleep, a drink of water, a couple of rhubarb and custard sweets, and about two hours of writing time. How am I? Still don’t want to talk at the moment but at least my handwriting has improved and my desire to die has reduced although not fully abated. I’m still feeling down but this isn’t the worst I’ve felt recently. However, I do still firmly believe that the world would actually be better off if I wasn’t in it.’

Next: Continued Fun


One response

3 09 2012
Derick Wade Grover

I can relate to your sentiment about the world “would actually be better off if I wasn’t in it.” Although, selfishly perhaps, I still sometimes believe that I, not the world per se, would be better off if not in this world.

The world is an often inhumane and psychotic place to be in. If you weren’t in it would that really make it a little better? Your blog is a kind of refuge, a work of words both vulnerable and brave, comforting to myself (and others, I’m sure) because I searched the web for others who share a story, a struggle, a life much like my own. And found your blog.

It is very often the one who suffers most who is also the one who offers the most comfort to others. Your pain and loss of hope is, I know, at times unbearable. But your posts, your honesty, your refusal to sugarcoat how horrible mental illness can be are the very things that make life a little more bearable for people like myself. And those are the things that make the world a better place. And those things were born out of you. YOU express them and because of that, YOU make the world a little better, a little less dark.

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