Triggered my past

I was watching a local TV drama last night. It felt very familiar in a strange way. Watching a depressed young character. It was like he was saying goodbye then seemed happy. I knew what was coming up. But went into denial. After all its just a TV show. Just actors.

Then the scene happened finding him after a suicide attempt. The acting was brilliant. Very real the actors whom played the family. Looked like they were going through it in real life.

Then it hit me. Like a tone of fucken bricks. (Sorry for swearing but I’m trying to be real). It dawned on me what my mother must have gone through finding me after both my suicide attempts. Heart wrenching.

I picked up the phone in tears telling her how a show had triggered such emotions. I blurted out mummy I’m so sorry for what I did. She was a rock. Calming me so quickly. Talking it through. Agreeing that it needs to be in the face of of the public to trigger raw emotions in the community to take firm action.

Please if you need to reach out to someone to anyone. I’m living proof that you can survive and lead a happy. Yes I said a happy life. My heart goes to everyone touched by suicide. Please remember even in that deepest darkest hole of despair. You are worth it. You yes YOU deserve to be alive on this earth. If your going through it right now do one thing for me. Imagine that you’ve dug you way out of this hole through hard work and share determination. Think just for a second, you can be happy again.

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Day 128 of 365

Day 128 – I don’t know what made me think of it or why. But I’ve just realised that its been about 18 months since I last cut. I’m no longer a cutter/self harmer. I’m a recovering harmer. I don’t remember the last time I felt the urge. I’m feeling so proud. Which reminds me I must take more photos and do an update of my bio oil challenge.

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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The last time …

A year ago I sat calmly on my couch, the tv down low. Bottle of wine open next to me. As I stared at the knife. The towels to clean up after. Turning my phone off for no interruptions.

I started counting the healed scars on my body. Well over 100 self made cuts. Words, patterns and random. Tears sliently falls down my cheeks, I didn’t realise I was crying until the tears were falling hard. I was lost, I didn’t know how to stop, so down went another glass of wine, trying desperately to numb the pain.

Realising it wasn’t working, I picked up the knife and began slowly cutting my legs and stomach. There was no pain. No words at that time to describe the intense relieve seeing the blood. Then the pain. This is a pain I could handle. Unlike the pain in my head, this pain I could understand. Never deep enough to seek medical help, yet deep enough to work.

I lay there watching myself bleed. Knowing it was time I reached for the towels and started cleaning and bandaging my many new wounds.

Then the emotional pain came back. The relief was gone and then I knew I was in trouble…..

I’m scared to hit the publish button but I will. I’m prepared for the judgements, I’ve heard them all before. Attention seeker, nutcase, crazy are just a few. But I’m proud to say that was the last time I cut. A year ago today

Day 11 of 365

Day 11 – today is a really full on one. But so important to me. I am what I’d consider a recovering self harmer. Four nights ago I sat there scared because I had my first major urge to cut again. I’m so proud that I resisted this and didn’t cut. I’m proud of how far I’ve come. Nearly a year since I put down the blade for the last time. I AM PROUD!!!!