Comp practice one month till the big weekend

In a month I’m competing with my son in a big cooking competition. So been getting my practice on for one of my entrys. Bailey’s cheese cake, with a centre of espresso dark chocolate cremeux, a dark chocolate mirror glaze and will be decorated with chocolate cover roasted coffee beans, Bailey’s cream, a tempered chocolate curls and gold leaf. Starting to get excited. Love glazing desserts brings a sense of satisfaction

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A year ago

I’m surprised I’m here, writing this. I’m alive. The docs reckon I shouldn’t be.

Over a year ago I lost everything, it all changed. My world that I wanted my whole life was over. One attempt of my own life, so many physical scars, many more emotional ones.

This time it was different. I wanted to succeed. My children were at my mothers. The pills all out of there little packets. Everyone thought I was out for the night. I did last minute errands.

It was time. I parked my car around the corner, I pulled my landline and cellphone apart so I could get help and people couldn’t stop me. My letters were written, will all done, even funeral plan was sitting on the bench.

It was time. I wrote a letter to my councilor with my key. Told her to ring police to find my body. After hours I dropped it off. Returning home I started running the bath.

I got changed all black, put everything I needed along the bath, pills, bottles of water, my ciggys.

Calm I started taking the pills. Handful by big handful. Swallowing the bottles premixed with dissolvable pills. Then I got angry, why weren’t the kicking in. More an more I toke. Careful to space it all out so I wouldn’t vomit. Then I picke up the knife. At that point I can only assume I past out.

Hours later I wake, stumbling, crying, why wasn’t it working. I should’ve been dead. 300 plus tablets, past out in a bath. I remember little after this.

14 hours after I toke the first pill. I hear it , the terror in my mums voice. Banging on the door. Then it’s the police let us in. How I’m unsure but I crawled to the door. The police assumed I’d only taken a few. Attention seeking. They let me smoke a number of ciggys before taking me in the back of the police car to the hospital.

The hospital were angry, they should’ve called an ambulance. I’d been in water with countless meds in my system.

24 hour on a drip not watched closely. And I was sent home.

I spoke to two people. Who finally realise I wanted and needed help.

A year on I don’t know how or why I’m alive. But I am and I’m happy. Never again will I take an attempt at my own life. Therapy and support have finally gotten me out of the black hole.

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