After my father’s death, I tried to distract myself. I was pushing back any form of grief, to the most repressed part of my mind.
For a while it worked, I was so busy planning the house move and organising the funeral as my mother couldn’t, that I didn’t have time to be anything less than strong.
I also went through some pretty hard hitting life changes alongside the grief of my father’s death.
Suddenly my teen years were over and I had to become an adult, and a parent all at once. I wasn’t ready (I’m still not).
I started to doubt myself as a person, that I was unworthy of real love. I felt betrayed by the universe for taking my dad from me, especially after I had been through so much already.
I had taken my anti-depressants like usual. An hour later, I was on the internet and realised that no one would know if I died right now.
This thought overwhelmed me so I tried to call people who I thought were my friends.
Four friends didn’t answer and the fifth did answer but they were in a state of sleep delirium. I mean, it was 1am, I don’t blame them.
I even tried to contact my boyfriend at time, who had been ignoring my texts.
I decided that my theory was right, I wasn’t loved or cared about.
The universe wanted me dead and I wasn’t going to deny it, it had after all, been pushing me to this point for years.
I wasn’t scared, I was excited to see my dad again, I just wanted to hug him again and be his little girl.
Suddenly it hit me, the switch turned back on and my fear of death came charging at me, panic set in.
I messaged a wild-card, I told them what had happened and they persuaded me to call an ambulance.
I couldn’t make the call myself. I didn’t know how to tell the 999 operators that I had deliberately tried to end my life.
I felt guilty and ashamed.
I didn’t want to take away precious time of another patient who could be dying due to no fault of their own.
The stigma was overwhelming.
I went to my mother’s room, in tears, I told her what had happened and she called 999.
While I had to wait a good few hours for an ambulance, I took more and more pills, I couldn’t stop myself, it was like a compulsion. I wasn’t in control.
After the worst ambulance ride of my life and the worst ever treatment and malpractice of my local hospital, I survived but barely.
I avoided physical damage but it certainly left a mental scar.
I remember so clearly watching the clock and thinking: “I wonder what my time of death will be”. At this point the pills had kicked in and I felt like I was dreaming.
After passing out in the shower, I realised how much pain my attempt had caused.
Who knows what long-term damage was done.
I will never try to end my life again, it was the worst experience of my life and it solved nothing, all it did was make my situation worse.
I still have those thoughts where I want to die. Actually, suicidal ideation is one obsessive thought of mine.
Somewhere though, I know, very deep down, it’s worth it to live.. which is not something that I’d ever believe back then.
If you are suicidal, reach out, you are not alone and people will understand.
I know how hard it is, but even if you have no one to talk to, there are support lines and you can even message me.
Failing that, I find that writing things down helps. Which is worth mentioning, as text crisis lines are thankfully becoming a thing!
What really helped me, was allowing myself to talk about it, to seek help and get better. Because I reminded myself that I deserved to matter.
Keep strong, you are valid and important, your life is very much-needed on this planet.
Yes, I know how cheesy that sounds, but it doesn’t make it less real.