Trigger warning. Talk of suicidal thoughts and a past plan in some detail. Also mention of self harm.
My mental health has gone to shit but I’m hiding it so well that everyone thinks I’m fine and that’s scary.
I’ve lived for years with this constant battle going on inside my head, for years I told no one. Eventually I started to open up to a few people and decided to reach out and get help from my doctor.
Things seemed to be going okay. I mean, I still felt like shit day in day out but I was on medication. I was functioning. Everything seemed okay despite me feeling as though I was falling apart and as though I was at rock bottom. Little did I know I wasn’t.
This past week or so I’ve felt so bad.
I’ve carried on with my life as normal, ive gone to uni quite a bit. I’ve tried to be social. I’ve smiled around people and I’ve held it together. Yes, I’ve had a few blips here and there where I have self harmed and my eating has been shit to say the least (living off one chocolate bar a day most days)
I don’t know what happened. I was fine and then I wasn’t.
Yesterday feels like a bit of a blur to me, so much happened in such a short space of time. I was at my dads, I went back to uni, I went out with some friends and then I fell apart.
It was about 1AM this morning and I don’t know what happened. All I remember is feeling low. Really really low. I just couldn’t cope. I didn’t know how to cope. I didn’t want to carry on. I wanted to die.
For me, the idea of dying has never really scared me. I’ve welcomed the idea with open arms. I’ve always said I would never actively kill myself, but if a car was to drive at me at high speed, I don’t think I would step out the way. Death doesn’t scare me. The thing I’m scared of is how it would affect my family and in my eyes, that’s the reason I would never actually do anything to end my own life. I love my family too much to hurt them in that way.
Until last night. I lay in bed and I realised there was 3 bottles of bleech downstairs. I began imagining myself drinking it. Holding my nose to try and mask the taste a little and just downing it.
It scared me. I hadn’t had thoughts like that for nearly 5 years. I’d forgotten what it felt like to have real, genuine suicidal thoughts. I mean in the past 5 years I thought I was suicidal a few times but looking back I wasn’t. Not compared to last night.
I knew I couldn’t do it though. I had to fight the thoughts. The urges. The inner voice telling me to do it. That the world didn’t need me. That my family would be better off without me.
I was scared. So scared I actively reached out for help. I went online and googled as fast as I could. What to do if you want to kill yourself?
A list of websites appeared before my eyes, every time I clicked on them the opening hours read 9AM-10PM. What use was that? It was 1AM. I kept searching frantically, page after page after page. They all said the same. Closed now. Come back tomorrow.
I accepted defeat. It was time to speak to the Samaritans.
Now I don’t do phone calls, it isn’t something I posses the ability to do. So I decided to email.
I began the email with “I don’t really know what to say or what to do. I just need help”
For me that was scary. I was asking for help. Me, the person who never asks for help. I knew in that moment it was serious but I also knew that by seeking out help, it meant I didn’t really want to die. I just wanted an escape.
So I typed and I typed for what felt like forever. I typed everything I could. All the thoughts I was thinking went into this email and I sat there for about 10 minutes hovering over the send button.
I closed my eyes and pressed send.
I’d done it. I’d asked for help. I’d reached the lowest point I’ve felt for years and I did it. I didn’t hurt myself. I didn’t kill myself. I helped myself.
I don’t know what happened last night. Nor do I know how I managed to build up the courage to ask for help in that situation but I did and I’m so proud of myself for doing that. I don’t know how or why I did but what’s important is I did.
This morning I woke up and I went to uni, I attended my lectures and all my classes and I even stayed late to meet a friend after her class finished. I acted as though nothing had happened the night before.
No one knows I hadn’t slept. No one knows I was ready to take my own life just a few hours earlier. No one knows the battle I had just overcome.
Tonight I’m back in bed. I feel like shit again but no where near as bad as it was 24 hours ago. If I made it through last night. I can make it through tonight.
Something convinced me to stay last night. I don’t know what but there was something.
It’s made me realise I need to get my life back on track and I’m going to do everything I can to try and make this better.