So today is suicide prevention day, and yes I did write love on my scarred wrist and take a picture of it to support the cause.
Over the past 3 years I have suffered with suicidal thoughts, I even wrote my letter so it was ready for when I eventually decided I was going to try and end my life. I planned exactly how I was going to for ages, had medication ready for the right time, I spent hours googleing the various ways there are to kill yourself.
Last September I took two small overdoses, and at the end of September I took a very large dose of Amitriptyline a tricyclic antidepressant, that I had been saving up for a while ready for the right time. I don’t even remember taking the pills but I did, and my Mum and my sister found me, I’m not sure how long I was unconscious before they found me. All I remember was brief moments of being in and out of consciousness, and them slapping me to keep me awake, to which I kept shouting ‘Fuck off, leave me alone, stop’. I didn’t want to be saved.
I ended up in the ICU in hospital for 5 days being fed charcoal. For the first day I was pretty much out cold, my school counselor came to visit me and I remember saying to her crying ‘why am I alive?’. It was one of the only few times she has ever seen me cry, I hardly ever cry for some strange reason, I want to cry but I’m on so many meds it just hardly ever happens. I was so upset and disappointed that I was alive. I was meant to die, I wanted to die. I was tired of the pain I just didn’t feel like I could do it any longer.
For quite a while after I was in shock, and I felt slightly better. Has less thoughts of killing myself, I was still depressed but didn’t immediately want to kill myself. But after a while and the pain continuing the thoughts came back. This was around March 2013.
I told my school counselor, psychologist and psychiatrist I was feeling suicidal again. My school counselor told me that if I ever started hoarding medication again I was to tell her otherwise she could no longer see me. Which was fair. My psychiatrist put me on some anti anxiety meds, which helped me sleep away the day so I didn’t have to deal with it. Eventually I ran out and went back for a repeat prescription. I just wanted the prescription so I could give it to my mum who locks away all my meds now. He knew I was suicidal and yet gave me a full bottle of anti anxiety meds instead of a prescription that I could give to my mum and she could sort out. My immediate thought was ‘take all of them right now and end this’, or ‘keep them for the right time’. I fought off these thoughts and managed to drive them to school and give them to my school counselor. And then it was decided I should come back to England because I wasn’t getting enough help in Dubai. Plus suicide is illegal in Dubai, I got away with it once passing it off as an accident, but I wouldn’t get away with it again.
Right now I’m feeling suicidal again, I don’t have any plans to act on any of my thoughts yet and I’m trying to get help. But I’ve (yet again) had enough of all my existence being is more pain and the misery that comes with it. And I don’t know how much longer I can hold on.