The Aftermath

I’m an idiot. As you can see I manage to stop the inevitable last night. I drunk, a lot, but I managed to phone someone before I was too far gone and right now I’m so grateful to that person for putting up with my drunken distressed rambling.

Last night was the closest I have come to doing something stupid in months. Looking back at it this morning, I still haven’t come to terms with how close I got. If I didn’t manage to phone, if no one answered...I wouldn’t be here, that I’m sure.

I’m feeling so bad right now. Not ‘I’m going to do something stupid’ bad, but an overwhelming feeling of guilt about what I even considered.

On Saturday a body of a young talented actress from my neck of the woods was found hanged. I spent today, after meeting with a member of the crisis team, reading the tributes left on a facebook group in her honour. The messages really got to me. The shock people felt after what had happened, that no one knew what she was going through, how they wished that she had just said something as little as “I’m not coping so well today”. I don’t want to cause people to feel like that and yesterday I came so close to doing it.

The problem is, when I’m in a mood like last night, I don’t think about all this, my brain just doesn’t comprehend the pain it would cause people. As I said before, it’s a blinkered state of mind. All you can think about is “I need to escape”. People who say that suicidal people are selfish, that they don’t care about others are frankly just plain ignorant. I beat myself up daily for thinking the things I do. This morning I was in tears about what I almost did, I’m in tears right now writing this. The worst thing is though, no matter how bad I feel about it now, I know that my depression will drag me down again. I know I will consider harming myself again. I know the black cloud will descend again and obscure my thoughts until I’m left with only one option and that is to get away.

It’s the endless feeling of it all, that’s what gets me. I feel beyond help right now. Beyond help and hopeless. But for now, I will have to live with it and hope that next time the darkness descends I will be able to fight it off.

I Can't Go On

I am really struggling right now. Really struggling. It feels like a skeletal hand has gripped my pathetic heart and is squeezing it until it causes bitter tears to mark my cheeks. Add to that the overwhelming feeling of hopelessness and loneliness, multiply the feeling by about 46.2 and you get an idea of how I’m feeling.

I’m really worried that I may do something and yet I can’t bring myself to phone the crisis team. I’m on my own, enough alcohol in the house to knock me out, sleeping tablets and razors. And writing this is just working me up into a panic. I know I’m going to work myself up so badly soon that I won’t be able to stop myself from doing anything. That is how it works, that is how it always works. I go into some kind of blinkered state where all I can think about is harming myself and I HAVE to do it. I can’t stop myself, I watch my body do the things it does and I have no control.

I know I need to phone. My mobile is on the table next to me yet there feels like there is some force stopping me from picking it up. I just can’t do it.

I’m wishing for someone to ring, someone to stop me but it won’t happen. It’s almost 1AM here, no one rings me at this time, no one will read this in time.

I’m scared.

Please. Anyone. I need someone right now.

Ben, Jerry, and a Whole Load of Bags

In this world there are only two men in the world a girl can rely on; Ben and Jerry. I managed to resist the pull of drinking myself into a stupor last night and instead binged on a girl’s best friend...chocolate. I felt so sick that the thought of any sort of alcohol made me want to empty the contents of my stomach into the nearest bowl shaped object. Probably not the best way to cope, but nevertheless, it got me through last night.

I have actually just got back home from my appointment with my doctor and despite it being obvious that he couldn’t wait to get me out of his office, he has actually done something this time. I have been prescribed the grand total of 7 sleeping tablets. Woohoo! Sorry, can’t keep my sarcasm under control.

He has also called on the crisis team here to keep an eye on me. I am grateful, they helped me a lot after my overdose in February but I’m not sure if having them involved again will help me through this. Basically, for those of you who don’t have a team like this in your area, it’s a short term programme where a team help you through a period where you are at risk. They’ll check up on you a few times a day, be there to talk if you need, go for coffee, go on a walk, whatever you need. They only usually have about 10 people on their books and the programme only lasts a couple of weeks at the most.

I feel a little more secure but I can’t help feel smothered right now. I didn’t think I was that at risk to need the team again. I’m getting prescribed sleeping tablets on a weekly basis until I break out of this latest bout of insomnia and I’m having someone check daily that I don’t abuse them or stash them away somewhere. I don’t know, maybe I’m in denial again but I feel that I may as well have a sticker on my head saying “Unstable, approach at your own risk”.

I think I’m going to go back to bed anyway, right now I have more bags under my eyes than my nan has in her entire wardrobe, and trust me, that’s a lot of bags.

Numbing the Pain

Last night, I am ashamed to say, I resorted to drinking. Ever since my overdose two months ago I cut out all alcoholic beverages from my life. One, because I felt that I needed to show my housemates that I was making an effort to recover and two, I hoped it would cause my medication to finally work. My housemates never knew about my depression until my attempt in February. I have had many years of practice in hiding it but even my skills couldn’t hide an ambulance outside the house. They reacted very badly to say the least and phrases such as “You’re burdening so-and-so” and “You need to think of others” and my personal favourite “You’re not even trying, you need to try harder” were going amongst the ranks faster than a labour party email. I thought that if I cut out alcohol all together they would see how much I was trying. Don’t think it worked.

Yesterday things just got too much and I found myself drinking the little alcohol in the house before taking a trip to the shops and buying some more. I feel like a failure. I am a failure. I lasted two meagre months. And now, the numbing effect of drink seems appealing once again. I always knew that once I cracked I wouldn’t be able to control myself and now I’m afraid of what I may do. I’m on my own, no one nearby to stop me. I need to distract myself and it really isn’t working. I just need to last till tomorrow. I have an appointment with my doctor in the morning, I just have to last till then. 14 hours, 5 minutes.

Shit.