September 10, 2012
‘What is it like to be accidentally alive on purpose?’
Someone asked me that on twitter last week having stumbled across my blog and some of the posts I have made.
What a brilliant question. Its been a little while since someone has asked me something that has felt so deep, something I so desperately wanted to respond to with an answer immediately, yet that I also had to go away and consider.
My initial response was this ‘scary yet wildly exhilarating and exciting’. And whilst I have tried and tried over the last few days to come up with something as deep in response, I have not been able to. The only answer I have been able to come up with, and continue to come up with is that. Its scary. Yet it is exciting and exhilarating.
The reason they asked that was because they read something I had written a bit back, that talked about ’4 years since …’. Because 4 years ago, I wanted to die. Seriously wanted to die. In fact I was devastated that I didn’t when I tried to.
If you look back into my blog (you wont have to go that deep) you will find various writings which talk about that experience. That desire and longing to be dead.
That feeling of hopelessness, darkness and complete brokenness.
It was inconceivable that anything could or would change. My heart had broken and it felt like it would and could never be fixed, mended, put back together again.
Why am I writing about this again? Because today is World Suicide Prevention Day 2012.
You may have seen people tweeting about it, face booking, blogging. I have been truly moved by the many many different things I have read today. Peoples experiences, lives and families.
Every year on the 10th September is the World Suicide Prevention Day. And this year marks the 10th anniversary of that day. 10 years of research, prevention and education.
For more information on this and the organisation its ran by check out World Suicide Prevention Day
Here are some points made about suicide from their website:
* Data from the World Health Organization indicate that approximately one million people worldwide die by suicide each year.
This corresponds to one death by suicide every 40 seconds
* Suicide is one of the leading causes of death among the young
* Suicide is estimated to be under-reported for multiple reasons including stigma, religious concerns and social attitudes.
* Suicide affects everyone, but some groups are at higher risk than others
In just those few things are some really worrying and sad statements. True though. And so today serves as a day to remember those who have died, those who are considering it, and those who have come through it. It is a day to remember and think about those who have been effected by it, even if they themselves have not attempted suicide. Because for every person these facts suggest, is a family. Is someone who loves them, knows them, has at some point been in contact with them, and therefor are also affected.
As I wrote several years ago, on this day, in 2010, before I ever got to a point in my own life where suicide felt like the only option, I had already come into contact with it. Already knew someone who, when I was a young person, and they were my youth leader, felt their life could not go on. And it didnt. They hung themselves. I’ll remember to this day, that day we got a phone call to tell us he had died that morning. I was a teenager. His wife was left, with two young children. His parents were left. His family, friends. It affects everyone.
Today serves to raise awareness. Of the issues. Of the fact that so many people out there live in darkness, real torment. A life of no turning around. No where to run. No where to hide. No where o seek solace. No where to find peace. No where to find rest. There is no choice for them. Actually, there is, one choice, the only choice. To die. For then may their souls finally be still.
We must begin to/continue to speak out about this issue. Not be frightened to address it. Not be scared to utter ‘suicide’. We must bring it to the forefront of conversation. We must not be scared to open up the ‘box’ so to speak, and to allow people to explore the topic. We need to be aware.
As some of you who follow my twitter feed may remember a few months ago I spoke in an evening service at church. And I was frustrated, and hurt more than frustrated by the criticism I received straight after by the minister for mentioning ‘suicide’. I spoke about a different theme but mixed in with that some of my own story, to which I bought up the fact I had wanted to die. He had felt in ‘inappropiate’ because some young people 15/18 year olds were in the room who have had a family member commit suicide when they were very young. The young people themselves were fine. The vicar wasn’t. My impression was that he was uncomfortable with it. Which has been my experience of church generally. Whether thats because they choose to be uncomfortable with it, or because lack of knowledge and understanding leads them into fear, I don’t know, but I do know it needs to change.
We must not/cant be afraid to talk about it. We must change perception and stigma.
And today is part of that. Its been moving to see people posting many things online, and to see a movement of people coming together with one focus in mind. To raise awareness or suicide and the prevention of it.
What we must make sure of though, is that today is not a stand alone day. That those people who have tweeted, written, talked about and passionately ‘involved’ themselves in the conversation continue to do so after today.
For people like myself, and others affected, it does not go away after ‘one day’.
I was really moved to see a friends picture of her wrist today. With many other people, she marked her wrist with the word ‘Love’. As a sign of solidarity. Thanks Jasmine for letting me share this here. So simple yet so moving.
Lets keep moving on with this issue. With trying to understand it, and working out how we can support those people around us who feel there is no option other than the final end.
April 11, 2012
Its quite a strange feeling … being alive when your not supposed to be.
I guess some folk would say I am meant to be but the way I see it is I’m not.
Four years ago I took an overdose. People would say that people who take overdoses are not serious, and are only crying out for help. Maybe that is so for others but it isn’t for me. I truly wanted to die. And as far as I was concerned I had taken enough stuff, in a big enough cocktail to ensure that I did die. I didn’t plan on surviving. Its fair to say my state of mind was a bit irrational. Thinking back now, my mind was screwed (it still is) but back then it was screwed in a much bigger way.
It is really hard to describe the day, four years ago. In fact a lot of it is blurry. I just remember being so desperate for the pain to go, that I could not see any other way out. My life was never meant to have worked out the way it had.
Stuff that had happened was never meant to happen. When I was a very small child, I could never have imagined what was going to be ahead of me. When I was a child the things that happened to me that were wrong were normal. Wasn’t everyone abused? (It wasn’t until I got older did I realize the answer to that is no).
I have written before, a few times about the darkness, the pain, the hurt, the desperation. The no way out and no where to go feeling. The heart wrenching all hope is lost feeling. Because that is how is felt. I had nothing. I was nothing.
So what was the point in being alive? I didn’t see any …
So I tried to kill myself.
Imagine the feeling of waking up, a bit hazy, dazy and realizing that instead of being somewhere else (I had no idea where I was going to end up, I think my head thought it would be a hotter kind of hell than living, because that would be what I deserved) however even that was the better option than actually being alive (does not make much sense really when you think about it does it, but then I didn’t (still don’t often) make much sense) …
I was devastated to be alive.
But that was four years ago.
I keep saying four, because I cant quite believe it to be honest. Four years! It feels like it has been a long long four years, yet it also feels like it has flown by.
The biggest thing I cant quite believe, and would never have imagined in a million days would be the change since then … how life has moved on.
Yesterday I tweeted something on the lines of ‘it’s the day before the day I tried to kill myself four years ago and instead of smoking, drinking and self harming I’m getting ready to go to Spring Harvest – a Christian conference’ – (obviously it was a bit shorter on twitter!)
I have the honour and privilege of being at Spring Harvest this year, and I’m really thankful to the people who have made it happen. And as I was getting packed to come, I was thinking about the fact its been over a year since I last cut, I don’t smoke any more, and I have the odd drink, but that’s it.
Last year I arrived at Spring Harvest on the back of a bet with someone who reckoned I wouldn’t survive a week at a Christian conference, despite having already been to a few. Not only did I survive the week, I think I survived it quite well.
Everything I thought it was going to be, it wasn’t. The fights I was looking for didn’t happen, and I went away from the week realizing that actually, despite my protests and issues sometimes I am a Christian. Yes, I am a Christian.
I am still trying to work my way round, understand the true meaning of Gods love, and really get to a place of belonging. There is a heck of a lot that I don’t understand – a heck of a lot … but I am firmly on the journey of trying to understand. I still need to learn more about why I am here, what the meaning of my life is and why the stuff that has happened happened. I know that there are no easy answers to any of these questions, and that they are things that I am going to have to explore.
This afternoon, instead of going to the seminar that I had planned on going to, I went and spent an hour chatting to someone from the Pastoral Team here at SH. It was something I was a bit hesistant about, but something that I felt my soul stir into doing and I’m pleased I did. I felt like I was given a little clarity to my thoughts and feelings about today. And how God fits in to it all. Because He does.
I know that process isn’t going to suddenly become easy, but then I’m used to not easy.
But it’s a process that has now started.
One of my new years resolutions for 2012 was to spend more time concentrating and focusing on the future. Thinking about where it is heading, trying to ascertain the pathway I’m meant to be on, career wise, spiritually and personally.
And so, I supposed you might read this blog and think it is not doing that. Which is true, kind of.
I want to keep moving on wards, forwards, and part of that process is to process the past. I know I have spent some time talking about the past, four years ago in fact, I feel I have to. I have to mark it somehow. And the marking it somehow is more about celebrating the fact that I am alive . Its about remembering where I was, thinking about the years and the journey I have been on because that’s all so important when it comes to thinking about the future, my future.
I feel like I am marking it by writing this blog. Short of shouting out to everyone here, at Spring Harvest that It has been four years and I want to celebrate life right now the only way I know how to mark it is to write.
IT HAS BEEN FOUR YEARS, AND I AM ALIVE, AND THAT IS GOOD!
What has happened is a part of me. I can not erase the past. I can not erase the scars that my body bares, and I can not erase the torture that sometimes haunts my mind.
But I can use some of those experiences, exactly how I don’t know yet.
But I want to look to the future.
I want to talk about it. I want to share my story.
I want people to know my story because more importantly I want others to know they can survive too, and that can happen by me sharing my story.
November 29, 2011
my name is fragmentz … and as well as being fat (see a previous post) there was a time in my life when I wanted to die.
A few times in fact … but one very clear time that I will never forget about … when there was no other option than to die. That one time was more than ‘wishing’ or spending time planning or thinking about … this one time was about acting on that wish to go.
obviously … here i stand, by the grace of God if you believe in Him (which I do) or by sheer luck or fortune if you dont. So for me, it didnt work. And at the time … I was gutted. Devastated. Some people have the view that if you dont ‘successfully’ kill your self when you try then you didnt really mean to do it, and that you were just crying out for help. I disagree with that whilst acknowledging that for some people that may be the case. For me it wasnt. I had tried the call for help. Numerous times. I had tried many many things. I had gone beyond wanting help. I wanted release. The end.
Why am I writing about this? Again, some of you may say, as I have written one or two blogs over the last few years about my experience. The reason is because I can. And for that, now, I am thankful.
Why am i writing about this today/tonight? That would be because since Sunday all day and today I have been reading some very beautiful writings by some beautiful people about a beautiful person. Gary Speed. A former football player turned manager. Who sadly committed suicide so it would seem over the weekend. I dont know Gary, in fact I know very little about him, other than his job role and family status, oh and the fact it would seem there was something very dark going inside of his life that not many if any people knew about. This past week has also seen the apparent suicide of Angie Dowds, a celebrity fitness trainer, known for her role as a joint trainer on the UK version of ‘The Biggest Loser’ … a determined, strong and inspiring person to many. She also, for some reason, and who may ever know the real reasons why, felt there was no other option left to her other than to die.
So, the internet has been awash with tributes/tweets/blogs/reflections/thoughts. Its been over the news, over facebook, over the twittersphere. Famous people, celebrities, friends, family, fans and other folk have all come out to pay their respects. To give humbling and heartfelt reactions to the deaths of people who meant much to them.
And of course … the topic of mental health … depression / suicide has been bought to the front of peoples minds. Its been very interesting seeing it happen. Seeing the discussion, the empathy, support, the kind thoughts, and well meaning comments to the families effected by these two peoples passing, but also the whole on the topic of people wanting to kill themselves.
I whole heartedly advocate talking about it. And it feels uncomfortable to say but it has been heartwarming to see the responses of such tragedies. People not shoving it under the carpet.
I was touched hugely by the article Stan Colleymore released via his twitter … click here to read his thoughts . A very brave peice and I admire him greatly for putting it out there.
A few years ago, there was a documentary on the television about depression in the sporting industry and I remember writing at the time how indiscriminate mental health illness truly is. How indiscriminate depression truly is. How at any time it can surround any person. Rich, Famous, Poor, Not Famous, Fat, Think, Black, Green, White, Mothers, Daughters, Professionals, Sons, Fathers. Anyone. The list is endless. It could be anyone. It could be you.
It was me. And how life changing has it been. I am never going to be as poetic and eloquent in my words as some of the other blogs I have seen and read over the last 48 hours whatsoever, I am not even going to try. I dont think right now its needed particularly as so many other people are doing such a good job of describing their experiences.
I tweeted earlier on today this ‘Some really beautiful blogs and tributes bring written since the sad news of Gary speeds death … But please please don’t just move on from The topic of depression/suicide/mental health as soon as it leaves the front pages coz his family/friends and anyone else effected by the Sadness and life changing/wrecking illnesses won’t. They don’t and won’t go away for the many millions out there who suffer daily’
And I suppose that is what is on my heart/in my mind this evening as I write this … depression is such a far wider thing that what we sometimes imagine it to be. It effects more than the person who has the illness. It effects so many different people, and even after maybe the final act is committed, for those people that isn’t the end. At I guess part of me feels that right now, this topic is being discussed hugely, probably because its effecting the famous the publicised, the people who make it into the papers (I am not intending this to offend whatsoever so apologies if it does to anyone) and that no doubt, as the headlines fade away so will the discussion … or the majority of the discussion, because for some of us there is always the discussion (there are some amazing mental health bloggers/writers out there).
But it doesn’t fade away for the millions of people who are out there struggling tonight. as I write this, it does not fade away for the people who go to sleep this evening wishing that they didn’t have to wake up in the morning.
It does not fade away for me. Yes, I am alive, yes I have come a long way from what is almost four years ago, from the time when I went to sleep having hurt my self significantly to not wake up again … (trust me, it was a shock when i did).
And I am glad I did. Wake up. I am glad that I have amazing people in my life who stand by my side as I walk this journey of learning to live again, learning how love, how to laugh, how to enjoy life. Some days are good. Some are not. The not days however are not as bad as they were. For now. But I live under the cloud .. all the time, as do many millions out there … the cloud of depression, of mental health illness. The cloud of being precariously balanced on a ledge of normality waiting for it to spike, to go into overdrive, or waiting for it to tilt the other way into a pit of despair that one can only claw to try and get out of … its my hope and prayer that I never have to experience how bad life was then again … but who knows? Because its so much more than just ‘being sad because …’ or ‘having a bad day …’.
I really want to encourage people who have been moved by the death of a sports personality, or anyone and RIP dear Gary to have the courage to continue the thinking of mental health, and how you see it. How you are affected by it. How you engage with it?
Keep the conversation going … because it needs to be talked about. It needs to become less of a stigma and the only way that can happen is through awareness and people continuing to speak out, write about it, be honest/open and make it the very real thing that it is.
April 11, 2011
I have no idea where this post is going, but, anyway …
my life is full of milestones. lots of them. lots of ‘its been x amount of years since this … or that’
today is one of those milestone days.
its been 3 years since i tried to take my own life. and failed miserably (well, at the time it was miserable failure)
i got my dates a little confused last week, with something else, but having clarified with my faithful old journal, today is the day. 3 years ago. wow. where have those 3 years gone? sometimes it feels like it was only yesterday, sometimes it feels like it was a long time ago.
and what an immense journey it has been. the journey beforehand was immense anyway, so i guess its been extra immense since.
Sometimes i try to put into words just how incredibly hard the last 5 years of my life have been. And i am never quite sure if i have managed to do it justice, or whether or not i just come across like some whining woman. I hope i dont. Something I think about quite often is how 5 years ago I had no idea how life was going to roll for the next set of 5 years. Same with 10 years ago. Who knew that 10 years ago the roller coaster ride of my life would bring me to this point.
Who could ever have imagined that when you are already at the very bottom, end of the rope, struggling to hang on anyway, that life could get 100 % worse. That one moment life meant one thing, and the next moment it meant another. I was already unwell, struggling with childhood memories, abuse, self harm, faith and God, big time, and then came the assault.
I wrote in a blog once, this blog, some time ago, about feeling like a glass vase, being broken in to pieces. And then each piece of glass being broken even more, into tiny shards. The smallest bits, until there were no bits left, just dust, sprinkled all over the floor, for people to trample on. Thats how i felt. It was all too much. Too too much.
i had to do something. to get out of it. on reflection, i now feel guilty. i didnt leave anything, for anyone. my head was in a spin. i was being irrational. even to this day, some very close family members do not know, because it would hurt them too much to.
I could not see any other way, i felt like life would be better with out life. i already had no life, so what was the point in breathing? I felt like everyone elses life would be better without me in it. i was too messed up, too complicated, too many issues, too much hurt/pain, too much for anyone to do anything with.
so i tried to die.
it didnt work. now i say that thankfully! it didnt work. i do believe here by the grace of god i stand (the story of how i was found is a whole other blog for another time)
thing is, its fair to say, despite it all, there were people who were able to do something with me. people who loved me. who cared.
who helped me pick myself up off the floor, and slowly turned the dust back into shards, and then into fragments. Ever so slowly and lovingly teaching me that life can be worth something. that life IS worth something. that I am worth something.
its been a long ride, and one that isnt over yet. but 3 years on and life is slowly turning. I am learning to live with myself, and some of the pain. I am learning to laugh again, to smile again, to have fun again. i am learning that I am never going to forget the past, but there is a way, and a time to move on from it. to not be beholden to it. that doesnt mean i dont have my dark days. i do. nights when i cant sleep because the nightmares have kept me awake, or i am so restless because something has triggered a memory. however, the intensity of it all isnt as intense. I dont want to die because of it!
the last thing to say that i am learning to do again, is to love and accept love. i am learning to love people and life again and accept that people and life love me.
I would like to say such a deep huge and heartfelt thank you to all of the people involved in my life the last however many years.
You have all had a part to play in the fact I am still here now. Thankyou.
thank you for everything you have done and do for me. you really have and do make a difference.
lots of love
March 1, 2011
I have been reading an old hand written diary. One I wrote roughly three years ago. In about 6 weeks time, I will be celebrating a 3 year milestone in my life, and so I thought it time to read back at how life was three years ago. How I felt, and what I was writing. Three years ago, I was a mess. A bigger one than I sometimes am now! Life was a big struggle, in fact, everything had collapsed. The letter below, I wrote, to my biological father. I wrote it the same weekend I decided I couldn’t live any more. Its very poignant to read back. To read this back. Its also poignant for me to publish it. For some of you to read. Because it signifies moving on. For me anyway. A couple of years ago, about a year or so after I wrote this, I met him. For the first time in many years. It was an incredibly emotional experience. However everything I’ve written below still stands. I never sent the letter. He has never read it. Maybe if I was to write another one now, it would be a little different. Life has changed over three years, however the hurts are often still around somewhere nearby. They never go far.
I have so much inside of me, that is never going to be said to you. So much that I want to say and so much that I just want to put at your feet. But I never will. I will probably never let you know how much you hurt me when you walked out that day. When you left that day, I was only young. A small child, but do you what one of my earliest chilldhood memories was? You. Walking out. I even remember which way your huge motorbike turned as you went out of the driveway. I have never been able to admit out loud, in voice how much that actually hurts. How much it hurts to have no happy memories of you. The summer holidays we had to endure with you were hell. Did you know that? Did you know that when you were beating me that day, in that room, my brother, your son was learning from you. Do you know that he then went on to copy you? When you were not there. Do you know that? Do you give a damn? I think not. Do you know how every word you spoke made me cry inside. Every single nasty word. Yeah, I smiled, at you and everyone else, laughed it off. Promised to try and change. Be a better, different person. But I did wonder whether even being a different little girl would have made you happy. I tried so hard to be everything you wanted me to be but every time I reached a goal you would knock it down. And how do you still have the ability to do that? Even now? Even now, while I am an adult you have this power to knock me down to the ground with your words. Do you know how much my heart used to cry because you were not there? And then how much my heart used to cry when you were there, for those 2 weeks of the year because of your behaviour and action. Did it ever occur to you how much harm it did for me to stand at that window that day while you had my brother in the garden? Did it occur to you what you were doing to my brother and I? I doubt it. How could you.
Will you ever know how much pain I then had to endure with my brother? My darling brother. Who couldnt cope with your behaviour towards him. Who turned to drink and drugs to blot out the memories of you. Who do you then think took the blows when his anger let out? That would have been me. So, I was at school, and being bullied there, and then I would go home and be bullied there too. Bullied at home is probably a tame way of saying what happened. Bruised, beaten and hurt are prbably the words that describe it best. Will you ever know how hard it was to live at home, taking it from my brother, as he let rip? And where do you think he learnt/got that from? Where did he learn to hit, smack, punch, burn, taunt and spit out words that will probably never go away from my memory?
Do you know how hard I tried to please you? How hard I tried to please everyone? And did it ever work? You will never know that as I sit writing this, the tears fall. The tears I have never cried. The tears you believe show weakness. I have spent so long being strong, not crying, because what would it do? Change everything? Make it all better? I doubt that very much. But does anyone care? Do you? Again, I think not. I usually doubt you even loved us at all. Maybe we just an inconvenience.
I dont know what it is I have to do to make you proud. To make you love me. Sometimes I ask myself why it even matters. Why you even matter. And I wish I knew. I wish I could explain.
I have never said this to anyone, and I don’t know if I ever will be able to say it to your face, but do you know how angry and frustrated I sometimes feel. Sad, angry and hurt with you, at you and your behaviour. Why couldn’t you or don’t you love us? I know I am not good enough but isn’t a fathers love suppose to not be about that? Were you not supposed to love us no matter what? Why do you disappear from my life for months on end, and then when I am finally coming to terms with you not being in contact you ring or email. Sometimes I long and long to hear from you, but then when I do I cry.
January 8, 2011
The below is a poem I have had on the go for many months now. I keep coming back to it, time and time again, to ‘complete’ and yet, every time I do, or every time inspiration has hit, and I think ooh that be part of that poem, by the time I’ve got to write down the thoughts, they’ve gone. So I have concluded that maybe the poem is meant to be unfinished, and there for complete as it is.
The blink of her eyes, the teardrops fall,
as the tired body crumples up against the wall,
no one and nothing to stand her upright
on to the floor she goes, losing her fight
The feeling is extreme, rushing through her veins,
Never before has she felt such pain,
In the middle of the night, when silence is all around,
Who is there to cry out to?
September 10, 2010
Hope this blog finds everyone well. I am always honoured that people come by and read the stuff i have to say. I hope you have enjoyed the last couple of blogs, about Greenbelt. just to let you know, I have a third and final Greenbelt blog to post, which will come in the next few days.
However, today I want to write about something else. Because today, 10th September 2010 is World Suicide Prevention Day.
I am sure, that there are lots of blogs out there being written about today, and about this topic, so my thoughts may be nothing original or new /different or profound, however what they are is something personal to me.
I am no expert on this topic (or any other for that matter) and so all I have to go on is experience.
The experience of losing someone I loved, respected and had a lot of time for to suicide, and the experience of being in a place myself that felt like the blackest of black holes and no way to climb out of it, other than to think the best option was to die.
I was a young teen when we got a phone call, and my stepdad answered it. I knew then that something was wrong. He sounded serious. He often does, but it was a different kind of serious, and as he walked into the lounge, I knew in my heart that something had happened. As soon as he said A’s name, I put the pieces together, and knew. I don’t think I actually heard my stepdad telling me what had happened through the tears. Turns out, that A had felt he couldn’t go on any more. That was my first experience of the thing they called suicide. At that point, A was someone I trusted. He had been my youth leader for some time. Someone who hosted BBQ’s, who listened to my teenage woes, who talked me through issues when they were too much for my head to deal with. And to be honest, when i was that age I was a bit of a self absorbed. So much stuff was going on in my home life, with my brother being very unwell and a drug user, and issues with my biological dad as well, I kinda looked up to A, to be there, and had no real idea of what was going on behind ‘his smile’. The first I knew all was not so well was when he was admitted to hospital. for help. It didn’t.
I cant profess to know what was totally going on in his head. What his thoughts were. I cant profess to really know how his wife felt, and how his children coped, being very young and now beautiful young adults themselves, but dealing with the loss of a father they can only have a few memories of, as they were so little back then. I cant profess to know how his close friends felt.
The only thing I do know is that, for A, at that time, there was no other way out. None. It was his way out.
It was mine too …
April 2008 – I even remember the date exactly. My life had slowly fallen apart, over a period of a few years. I was physically unwell, and mentally in a mess. I was trying to hold on to little strands of hope, and every time I thought I had hold of one firmly it was snipped away, cut in half, broken.
I once wrote, on this blog, about feeling like a vase, being broken, into tiny tiny shards of glass. And each time glass was broken, I would think it couldnt break any more, but it did, until eventually it was a dust. Eventually, so broken there is nothing left.
Thats how i felt. thats how it was.
Its very hard to explain, because I dont know who is going to be reading this blog, and what your views are. Its hard to describe to people just how much pain and torment you can be in. Its hard to put across, that actually, there really is sometimes no way out.
I didn’t know where to turn. i couldnt see a turning. a right, a left, a forwards, or even a backwards. I couldnt see anything.
Well i lie, i could see something, it was hell. It wasnt something I could just ‘pray’ myself out of. It was not something I could just ‘get a grip’ out of. It wasnt something i could get out of without making sure I went to sleep, not to wake up again.
And , so to that end, thats what I chose to do. and took enough of the stuff I did to make sure I didnt.
Thing is , for me, I survived. Thats a whole different blog/story in itself, for another time. But i survived. It hasnt been easy since, but two years on and life is moving in a different direction, I am learning to live again with the help of some lovely super people, learning to love again, learning to smile again, and although the process is long, and sometimes very tiring, rebuilding life. and thats a good thing.
As part of that process, the last few months have seen me become more involved in supporting people with issues I myself have experience in. It involves chatting to other survivors of child hood abuse, it involves speaking out about stuff, it involves having a voice. And sometimes thats exciting, sometimes its scary too, but an important thing.
Thing is, the way I see it, is that its important that peoples perception of issues are challenged. Especially, issues such as suicide.
Its important people are not afraid to talk about it.
Its important for people to know we’re not freaks, and neither are the people who have gone before us and have not survived.
Its also important to acknowledge the pain and heartache suicide causes.
Which is why I have rambled on above.
To this end, today, on world suicide prevention day, at 8pm, in just a little while in my time zone, I shall be lighting a candle, in memory of those we have lost, those who have survived, and those who are affected by it.
I hope you are able to join me, and if you read this when the time has passed i encourage you to say a thought, or a prayer, or something in your own time.
Also, if you are struggling, the samaritans number is - 08457 90 90 90 – please give them a call, and i urge you to seek help.