Before anyone reads this… I would like to point out that this blog post may be particularly triggering. If you find that you’re easily triggered, please for your own sake. Do not read this post.
I’ve knowingly had depression now for around 5 years… It started back in school when I was suffering terribly from acne. I would miss school for weeks on end because of how self conscious I had become about it. This was the start of me shutting myself off from the world, I literally felt like an alien in my own skin.
My head progressively spiralled for the rest of the years until present day.
I started keeping a very small, personal blog that only 2 other people have read. I was having suicidal thoughts almost daily, but only wrote down my feelings when I couldn’t rationalise the thoughts.
To read those posts from early 2014 through until late last year, click here. The password is ‘death’, charming ay?
Now, back to the point of this post. I thought I’d share my own experiences with trying to end my life, what I was thinking and how I felt.
In the earlier days I tried drowning myself, it never worked out (evidently).
I went down to the local fort, got completely undressed and just froze staring at the moat. I ended up phoning an ex who had known what I was like who thankfully talked me out of it. I don’t remember thinking much other than “I need to do this”, “what have I honestly got to lose?”.
I tried over-dosing while my partner back in 2013 was asleep by my side. I took handful after handful of Paracetamol tablets. Then drunk half a bottle of wine, I was in excruciating agony… but still didn’t die.
The time after that, I had been out and was heading home. I tried running to the back of the Gosport ferry, managed to get a leg over the side before being hauled back on board by the poor guys who drive the boat. I was hysterical that night…
The fifth time was early last year when I had been out with my friend Harry, we’d been out on a Monday. Something just switched in my head. It was this particular time that I had noticed that I started to get an odd feeling, which I can only describe as ‘scarabs under the skin’ – just like in The Mummy. I was again on the ferry home, I threw my shoes off and ran straight to the back and jumped. It was just as well that Harry was there, who caught me just under my arms as my feet hit the water’s surface.
The time after that was Christmas just gone, the family and I had gone away to Northampton for a week. Christmas is the worst time of year for me (as explained in my first blog post). I had an argument with my dad and I couldn’t hack it. I ended up running to the bedroom, locking the door and grabbing a knitted scarf that I absolutely loved. I went straight into the walk in wardrobe – which had a sturdy clothing rail in it. I tied the noose around my neck and strung myself up. I remember feeling my eyes bulging from their sockets, I rememeber drifting in and out of consciousness. I could feel the pulse of my heart in my temples becoming slower and slower. At this point, the scarf became loose from the rail and I fell into a heap on the floor. I thought that, being quite close to death would kick me up the arse… nope!
On March 12 this year, I started getting the skin crawling feeling… I again tried to jump off the ferry. This time though, it was far worse than before. I managed to clamber over the edge of the ferry. By this point, the guys on the ferry were restraining me on the floor. I was kicking and screaming for them to let me go. The ferry was packed to the brim but I was being selfish. I got taken off the ferry and was told I was banned from it, I was a hazard to their business aswell as my own life. They’d seen me deteriorate rapidly on several different nights in two years and they just couldn’t take the risk anymore.
I was escorted off the ferry, when I tried darting round the fencing to jump straight back into the water. This was the time that a Police boat in the harbour pulled up to make sure nothing happened. My friend Lisa was the one person who saved my life that night. She hauled me back and was clinging onto me literally for dear life. She was crying, she didn’t know what to do. The police had now been called and they tackled me to the ground. All that was running through my head was that I needed to be in the water. The thought of the silence was pushing me to keep trying.
I was put into a police van and was detained under section 136 of the Mental Health Act which is basically an act to take someone who is mentally ill to an urgent safe place to avoid harm to themselves. I was shoved in the back of the van with cuffs on, my dad then arrived with my brother and was trying to see me. I heard his voice and was screaming, I just wanted to see him and to get those bloody cuffs off my wrists!
I somehow managed to persuade them to get them off my wrists so I could get out the van for some air and a fag. Of course, my only intention was to dart back down the tunnel to the water. I got about half way before I was rugby tackled to the floor by two police officers. Now I’m only 5’6″ and a size 8… but two officers had to tackle me. I was adamant that I was ending my life. A crowd of people had started to gather by this point, there must have been at least 5o of ’em.
I got shoved straight in the back of the van and was taken to Cosham where I got transferred to two Medisec workers. I didn’t want to be alone with two men for obvious reasons. I was so distressed I could barely breathe. I got taken up to Antelope House in Southampton which is a psychiatric unit. I was allowed to have a female in the room with me which was fantastic considering my state.
One of the Medisec workers let me have half of his Twix, bless him. They were all so very supportive, I was however put into a white-walled cell. I can understand why people in places like that get worse.
You feel like an animal in a cage, for something you can’t help. You feel like you’re part of a freak show. I got discharged god knows how long later after a 2 hour evaluation from a psychiatrist and welfare officer.
It doesn’t stop there though! My best friend Brad and I had gone out to Tiger. We had a brilliant night, but I started getting the crawling under my skin feeling… We had got a taxi round from Portsmouth back to Gosport. We were almost back when Brad remembered he needed to get some money out to pay the driver. I saw this as a green card. I jumped out the taxi and started running straight towards an oncoming car. Brad saw me darting towards it and dragged me out of the road.
I was in such a state that I started attacking him, my own bestfriend. I was biting him, slapping him and kicking him to let me go. This time, I got arrested for drunken disorderly. When I arrived at the police station, they had no record of the medication I needed to take, no record of my mental health, absolutely nothing.
That was back in Mayyyyyy (I think..?) and since then I’ve had no urges to do something silly again. I’ve almost finished my therapy group which has helped me a lot.
I’ve also landed myself a job working with people who also have mental illnesses and I’m training currently!
If you’re in a desperate situation…
Don’t let yourself suffer in silence.
If Kiwi can cope, so can you.
My bestfriend wrote a song draft about what happened that night… here’s a taster…
“You look both ways before crossing a one way street, you’ve lost faith in humanity. I am the only one you confide in.
Drinking was the gateway to it all. I saw you rise, then I watched you fall. You questioned your existence, multiple times you attempted to give up.
Those headlights were not meant for you, pushing you back was all I could do.”