Thursday, 12 July 2018

Glad to be Alive- Part II

CW: mental health and suicide
This is a second part of the last post. Please find it under this one.

Since the last post, I have been feeling a little exposed, mainly because despite the ability to share more from my life, mental health is an awkward conversation- even between me and my most understanding of friends, and often I find myself incapable of bringing others down with the daily doom and gloom that goes in the mind of a depressed human being.

My last post was upsetting. I would even say that it highlights the lack of funding in mental health which played a part in what happened. I was made me wait so long due to the very long waiting lists everywhere  just to be seen by someone. Unfortunately, I am not the only one who has gone through this. And I left this out in the last post as it would have caused me a lot of pain and it still hurts to recount it. This post will discuss the aftermath of what happened immediately and in the weeks and months after. I will also talk about how my aftermath was a bit shitty and I wish how it could have been a little different.

The emergency number was rung without my consent and despite my protests. But because I am loved; something the darkness surrounding me couldn't see as I took each tablet, I had the help I needed there. A former friend who came when called couldn't see the difference between the lowest part of my life that night to who I am comforted me the best they could. I feel like asking someone in my position to apologise for what I said during that time is perhaps not the best thing to do, especially not in the first 3 weeks of the event. And most importantly change my views their statements earlier in the evening may have contributed in part to what I did. When I could not and even refused, I was abandoned, less than 4 weeks after.

I still feel its not completely behind me even 7 months on. That former friend caused such a rift in my life that now I feel I only have one friend left that I can speak to. On top of this, the friends I told I had attempted to end my life have not once asked me how I am. Not once asked me to even meet up. As far as I am concerned, the strength I could have built within myself is taking much longer than needed as I don't have the support only friends can give. But then I wonder whether they were indeed my friends to begin with. And that reality and realisation is one gift I have been given.

The one thing that saved me and pulled me out of drowning was the man from a hotline who had been contacted after I refused to seek medical attention. He calmed me and spoke to me just the way I should have been spoken to; without judgement. I was so afraid of ending up in hospital yet again (having been admitted twice in 2 months for physical illnesses) that I knew that I needed to go to work on Monday now that I wasn't dead. My health was already an issue at work and I knew this would make it much, much worse. The man understood, was empathetic and listened. But he also advised me to go to hospital, saying that my health came before anything else, unfortunately, the words from my the manager still rang in my ears, knowing that it was my fault I have been unwell. He didn't force me though.

That night I was referred to an on-duty doctor who would ring me to see how I was feeling. Having taken the amount I had, I was sleepy and also sick all night. Unfortunately, the doctor on duty who called me later in the night was starkly different. She judged me and shamed me. Asked me why I wasn't dead. Yeah. I used the tiny amount of whatever was left in me to bite back. She apologised but I wondered if I wasn't me, and hadn't bitten back and was alone, whether her attitude and smirk might have actually made me try to commit again. She asked if I really wanted to die I would have done it and I wouldn't have called the emergency services. What a thing to ask someone in such a position. I wish I had got her name. I wish I knew where she called from because as I have become stronger, at my most lucid points so far, I have wished I complained about her so she didn't make anyone feel the shame she made me feel.

For a long time, writing on this blog was my way to work out my own issues. It's actually since I stopped writing that things got worse, or it is merely a coincidence. I hope this blog will continue to be a release for me where I can keep writing about my experiences in life so far, and perhaps help me to write about my views in a succinct manner.

Writing here was not meant to necessarily attract attention even though it is online and anything on the web is a 'free for all'. I have noticed that this blog has received a great deal of attention, namely the last post, thus, making me feel exposed. I hope the readers will understand that I will keep on writing the way I did and will not change the way or what I write about. This is, after all, my blog and I never thought anyone would read it. My hope for this post is that readers know that if they disagree with me, they don't have to carry on reading.

Best
Sen x

1 comment:

Dave said...

As one who worked in the mental health system for about 30 years I really feel for you. The offer to accompany you to an assessment for benefits still holds. Obviously I don't know all that has gone on to push you to the point where you attempted to take your own life but can say that I am really glad you didn't.

I applaud you for blogging about this subject because all too often it is one that puts people off. We do not castigate the person who plays a part in breaking their own leg in sport. Neither should we castigate those who react to the combination of their experience and genetic make up by harming themselves.

Sending love and hugs.