A Battle Within Myself

What screwed me up most in life was the picture in my head of how it was supposed to be. They say “Tomorrow will be a better day, never lose hope” but lately I’ve come to the conclusion that hope is dangerous – it can drive a man insane. The minute you think about giving up, think about why you held on for so long. But please, promise me if I can’t do it anymore let nobody think I gave in. I wrote the following poem a couple of months ago

“A Battle Within Myself”

Have you ever sat up at night to let your barrier down brick by brick? I sat in the silence, the darkness and I cried too many times. I let their words destroy me and let it all ultimately defeat me, made me think I was worthless. I let the burden of their words, of my thoughts get to me. I regret it. I’ve got the scars that remind me. I regret that I let my family and friends down while drowning in pain. All because I let my anxiety and their wretchedness get me, I let it control me, the pain, the pleasure. I was merciless at their hands – it makes me  cringe. The memories so overwhelm and overtake me sometimes. Though sometimes I unwillingly go back to the feelings that cause my blood to run cold. Sometimes I reminisce and hear voices saying “I’m not good enough”  and I eventually decided I’m probably not. It wasn’t fair I began to care and realised I have fought too hard against them and ultimately lost the battle within myself.

The photo attached is of my tattoo which I got as a tribute to my best friend Michael who I’ve known since the day I was born, committed suicide two and a half years ago – it’s his butterfly 🦋Ever since his death we’ve associated the monarch butterfly as a symbol of him in spirit. This was my first tattoo (I got it in December 2015) and a month later I went under the needle again and got the word ‘Courage’ tattooed under my butterfly.  This holds a lot of significance to me now. I’ve battled through numerous mental illnesses including two suicide attempts which have been the main reason for starting writing these blogs. Physical health problems ranging from rare disease Tuberous Sclerosis Complex, appendix surgery and chronic stomach erosion.

Courage it’s also part of the military motto. I’m the daughter of an ex soldier and I spent 4 and a half years in the military cadets – aspiring to follow in my fathers footsteps. But at 16 and a half I was permanently medically disqualified for service. Depression kicked in and my life was on the downward spiral. 

So I think the word and tattoo courage is so appropriate. I may have been weak enough to cut, give up or attempt suicide but I was strong enough to survive those days because it takes more courage to suffer than it does to die. But what is courage? Courage is being scared to death but saddling up to the challenge anyway.

Dying For Perfection

Welcome to my nightmarish reality life with BPD and BULIMIA following attempted suicide

Once upon a time there was a high achieving individual who was striving for perfection. Who binged/purged, cut themself and cried every night.  wished things would get better but they never did. The individual never got the “happy ending”, that one is me! I destroyed my body for the peace of mind I never got.

I can’t escape my thoughts, do you know what it’s like to be tortured by your own mind? Sometimes I don’t want to wake up because for so long everydays been the same and I’ve been waiting for so long for things to change. Only 5 years ago I never would’ve expected my life to have turned out like this.. but oh my god I’m so freaking sick of apologising to everyone when I’m the one collapsed on the floor with tears tumbling down my face and fighting the urge to end it all, to take my own life. 

Once you’re caught in Mia’a grasp it’s a vicious cycle, it’s a horrific place to be stuck in. It starts with something that “triggers” you, then you get the craving urges. After that you begin to binge which ultimately leads to purging to avoid the dreaded weight gain, but the binge/purge leads to feelings of shame and disgust so then you begin restricting or strict diet and exercise regimes which leads to tension and the process begins again. Though they say a flower can’t grow without a little rain, I’ve come to the conclusion that despite that theory- isn’t it also true that too much rain kills the flower?

Purging is like a drug, trust me it really isn’t nice to purge. It feels awful but it slowly becomes addictive. The illusion of safety, the idea that you can go back in time, control your body and do what no one else would dare to do. But after purging the nasty feeling consumes you – the shaking hands, light headed, dizziness, tiredness, feeling exhausted, the stench of vomit on your breath, swollen cheeks, your eyes cry involuntarily as you sit on the floor hunched over the toilet. Like I said Purging is like a drug. It makes you think you like it ,while it slowly consumes you. What you purge, purges you. You lose control, you lose yourself, you become addicted, you destroy yourself but worst of all – you don’t even notice! Until it’s too late and the damage has been done.

When I was younger and first learned about suicide I was utterly shocked. I couldn’t understand how anyone could be so tortured that they’d contemplate or even attempt to end their life. All I can say now is – isn’t it funny how fast things can change? On impulse I swallowed two bottles of benzodiazepines, I spent many nights alone cutting my arms and thighs deeper and deeper. I either binge till I purge or I starve myself, sleep for 16 hours or have insomniac nights, fall in love hard or hate with a passion. Fire words of hate – telling you I hate you or to go or be in love and begging you not to leave me. I don’t know what grey is but to tell you the truth- I never did!

Dying to be pretty became a disease, I was slowly killing my self just dying to fit in. Nowadays my recovery is just one big “I’ll try harder/I’ll try again tomorrow”. If you give up on me, I’ll give up on me too. But for now I’m not totally useless – I can always be used as  the demonstration of a bad example.

Dear Daddy …. **TRIGGERING**

Pic from September 2016 

Dear Daddy

This is  a victory that a year ago seemed impossible! Today is Friday 6th of January 2017 and today marks being 3 months clean from cutting. I am so sorry for all that I’ve put you through, the stress, the worry, nights in hospital/respite, the unknown. 

I know it’s not easy for you raising a teenage girl who suffers with major depressive disorder with psychotic features, anxiety disorder, severe self harm, suicidality,bulimia nervosa and borderline personality disorder. But despite all of that you’ve loved and supported me through it, daddy I see you looking at my scars, you don’t know how to approach it but you want to know you just don’t know how to ask,  you pretend like nothing’s wrong but please understand I was in a lot of pain and I never meant to hurt you!!

Sometimes when I tell you “I’m ok” you look me in the eyes and say “I know you’re not”. Daddy you’re my hero, my inspiration and the person I want to become. I hope to make you proud one day, to continue the legacy of that young troublesome sergeant that you once were. Your life story from the lonely abandoned child, to a troubled teen, you became a soldier in your teens and served in various regiments and deployments in 15 years. Somewhere in the mix having 5 kids aged between  7 and 28 and now you’re a single father raising me and two young boys (7&9 years). 

I feel terrible for the hell I have put you through of recent months especially my   suicide attempt December 12th (2016). I’m so sorry for that, the lies, the secrecy and not letting you in as mental illness stole me from you. You could only watch helplessly as I slowly went off the rails  yet You’ve given me the greatest gift of my life- you believed in me when everyone turned away. You are my inspiration to recover and when  I have my own babies I hope I’m at least half the parent you are,  the one they’ll be inspired by, and proud of. You’re my legend and my hero , I can’t wait to begin this journey of recovery with you by my side then eventually have my own wee family  then to carry on your legacy. 

I know I’ve left so many questions regarding the attempted suicide, recurrent extensive self harm and so on unanswered and because of you I’ll recover and one day have the courage to speak out. I can see the pain in your eyes as you look at me and my scarred body and the emotional scarring on your soul. I just hope you too recover.

You think that when I took that blade to my skin I’d be in a panic, crying, screaming, hyperventilating and uncontrollably sobbing. But it’s not always like that , when I feel my skin split in two and see my life’s essence leave my body is when I feel most calm.

Thanks for always being there for me, being my number one supporter and ultimately forloving me as your daughter.

I love you so much Daddy

Your baby girl 

You cut deeper in the hopes that just maybe you can reach the darkest depths of your startled soul or run your fingers along scarred skin that was once perfect and pure. And perhaps if you break your frail bones along the way and blame it on the past you realise the pattern of self destruction ruined your life and because of that it destroyed life as you knew it but worst of all it destroyed you. Only a few of you will understand because it’s a subject many people won’t, many won’t understand how much anger, how much self hatred one must have to take a blade to themselves and tear their own skin apart.

There is two songs that are so inspirational and hold such a sentimental meaning to me and they have played a rather large part in my recovery the first one is Lullaby ~ Nickelback and the other one is The Cutters Lullaby. A dear friend showed me these songs when I was younger and began self harming and became very suicidal. I never told anyone except her and she helped me through it by playing me lots of music to express her feelings and say the words she couldn’t. Below are the lyrics to the cutters lullaby, it’s a very powerful yet true message to anyone suffering with self harm and suicidal thoughts/ideation. As a young guy left physically scarred from extensive self harm and a survivor of two attempted suicide by overdose. It really sums up the feelings I’m experiencing lately.

Cutters Lullaby

Go to sleep and close your eyes

And dream of broken butterflies
That tore their wings against a thorn

You know the pain that they’ve endured

Silver metal shine so bright

Scarlet blood that feels so right
Dream of that blood trickling down

And wake up just before you drown

The moonlight shining off your tears

As you bleed out your worst fears

So tonight when you start to cry

Whisper the cutters lullaby 

Hushabye baby you’re almost dead 

You don’t have a pulse and your pillows red

Your family hates you, yout friends let you bleed

Sleep tight with a knife, cause thats all you need

Rockabye baby, broken and scarred

You didn’t know life would be this hard

Time to end the pain you hid so well

And down you go baby 

Straight back to hell

But there was one thing I didn’t know is that one slice was all it took and my addiction took over!

How do you get that lonely?

Loneliness, depression, isolation, self harm and suicidality are just some emotions I’m all too familiar with. Music has saved my life but one song in particular resonates with me and the lyrics below are from my favourite song by Blaine Larsen which is called  “How Do You Get That Lonely?” I’d highly recommend listening to it and the music video is just so moving.

The song holds so much significance to me, so much so that I re wrote my own version and as I post the lyrics I will also share my version – which so happens to be based on my life and suicide attempt.

(The lyrics in bold are the original lyrics)
“How Do You Get That Lonely”

It was just another story printed on the second page

This is not your average story that makes the Facebook page

Underneath the Tiger’s football score

An experience that rocked them to the core

It said he was only eighteen, a boy about my age

She was just nineteen years old, should’ve been making memories at that age

They found him face down on his bedroom floor

Instead she lay unresponsive on the hospital floor

There’ll be services on Friday at the Lawrence Funeral Home
There was a meeting the next morning concerning placement in a residential home

Then out on Mooresville highway, they’ll lay him ‘neath a stone…

Within minutes of that meeting she was taken there by  mum…
How do you get that lonely, how do you hurt that bad

How did I become this lonely? What drove me to do that?

To make you make the call, that havin’ no life at all

I impulsively made a choice that not having a life at all

Is better than the life that you had

Would be better than hell that I’m in

How do you feel so empty, you want to let it all go

I just felt so lonely I chose to let everything go

How do you get that lonely… and nobody know?

When did I become this lonely .. and how did not one of them know?

Did his girlfriend break up with him, did he buy or steal that gun?

Was it cos her Aunty had disowned her that she started stockpiling pills?

Did he lose a fight with drugs or alcohol?

Was it a night of drugs and alcohol?

Did his Mom and Daddy forget to say I love you son?

Is it cos her daddy never said “I truly love you Hun?”

Did no one see the writing on the wall?
I’m not blamin’ anybody, we all do the best we can

Did no one notice the warning signs? I’m can’t be blaming any of them they’ve tried as hard as they can

I know hindsight’s 20/20, but I still don’t understand…

The mind of a suicidal person is something nobody understands
How do you get that lonely, how do you hurt that bad

When did I become so angry? That I started to see red

To make you make the call, that havin’ no life at all

It’s not like I chose the road that not being alive at all

Is better than the life that you had

Would be better than the situation I’m in

How do you feel so empty, you want to let it all go

I just felt so revolting and impulsively just let go

How do you get that lonely… and nobody knows

How did I attempt suicide and not of them know?

It was just another story printed on the second page

It’s one of those suicide stories that never makes the Facebook page

Underneath the Tiger’s football score…

It just shook them  to the core…

Depression and suicidality are such cruel punishments, there’s no fevers, rashes or blood tests to send people running in concern, just the slow erosion of yourself, as insidious as a lethal disease like cancer. But just like cancers it is essentially a solitary experience where your all alone fighting something that will inevitably kill you anyway, like a room in hell with only your name on its door. Yes there is a hell – believe me I’ve seen it. I’m just not me anymore. How  did I go from a happy go lucky kid to … this? So when I die don’t come to my funeral and cry – I’ve been dead inside for such a long time.

Dear everyone I love

I literally have zero motivation to save myself these days, this disease is like a cancer and it’s destroying me more than you’ll ever know and if it kills me tonight  please no I’m not scared of death, I’m ready to die

*Waking up … Alive*

I can’t say I’d ever  given much thought as to how I would die,  but I can’t bring myself to accept the actions and decisions that literally brought me face to face with death. It also brought me face to face with the biggest wake up call of my life.

When I was younger I never understood how someone could be so tortured that they’d self harm and become addicted to something so brutal- I never imagined it would be me that’d be scarred for life from brutal episodes of self harm. I never understood how someone could hate their body so much – I never imagined that it’d be me bingeing till I purged and be stuck in Mia’s brutal grasp. But worst of all I never understood the brutality behind mental illnesses that would drive the victim to attempt to end their life, I never imagined it would be me laying in a hospital bed at just 19 years of age fighting for my life after taking a major overdose on benzodiazepines/ 50mg lorazepam. I have written a couple of blog posts about that particular event so feel free to read them and follow my blog as I continue on my journey. However this post focuses on life after attempted suicide hence it’s title – “Waking up … Alive”.  In this post I’ll attempt to explain the emotion and isolation that a suicide survivor suffers when they wake up and learn they survived.

Attempted Suicide is a torturous subject for the victim, it’s a lonely, dark journey that one embarks on, you feel isolated and the roller coaster of emotions is the worst – the guilt that you have over what you’ve done to those you love is crippling, the shame is overwhelming, anger and sadness when you tried to end your life and wake up having to live with scars and emotional pain because you’re still on the planet that you tried so hard to escape. There are so many emotions attached to attempted suicide but the thing that broke my heart more than anything else was the sympathetic stare. People started talking to me differently- like I couldn’t handle life, they avoided certain conversations like the plague and when people talked to or looked at me they made me feel like I was a mentally ill person. They just treat you so differently than they have in the past and it’s the worst feeling ever.

In terms of my mental health 2016 was quite literally the year from hell.  I was severely bulimc  at the start of the year when my relationship ended but wasn’t diagnosed till mid September, i overdosed on paracetamol but didn’t tell anyone, I started self harming again in February which lead to the diagnosis of major depressive disorder and my first round of anti depressants- “the escitelopram haze” self harm escalated which lead to multiple psych related hospitalisations and a night in crisis respite, they changed me to venlafaxine in April.Somewhere among all of it I met Sophie (previously Rob) a  transgirl who was my saving grace. Later in the year they concluded that I have borderline personality disorder and stress related hallucinations. Sophie and I had a huge fight in December which coupled with family drama and me  believing our relationship was through led me to  overdose with the intention of ending my life. I spent a whole week in crisis respite and I’m  lucky to be alive right now.

However it’s not all that it seems despite still being with Sophie my life has changed dramatically. I didn’t want to survive so I’m still bitter  about being alive. For many young people who attempt to end their life it is a cry for help, they don’t actually want to die.

I did, but now I live with the repercussions of my actions and the bitter memories of that fateful day because for me waking up alive was the proof that nightmares are real and surviving what the doctor described as “the worst case of attempted suicide he’d ever seen” was the biggest wake up call of my life. I wasn’t scared of dying I was scared of surviving because I knew if I did I’d only be more messed up than I was before.

In the words of one of the songs that saved my life

“I’ve got pain, I’ve got scars that I will never show, I’m a survivor in more ways than you know”

– Warrior by Demi Lovato
I survived suicide and I hope to inspire others to overcome their difficulties and be warriors and unite as “Suicide survivors” so if you’re having a rough day place your hand over yor heart, can you feel that? It’s called purpose – you’re alive for a reason so never give up because you have the power to say this  is not how my story will end.

A Christmas Milestone

 December 25 2016

**TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️ **

Mentions suicide attempt, overdose and mental health/illness 

 suffering with borderline personality disorder, bulimia, extreme self harm, anxiety, depression and an array of mental health problems Doctors and counsellors said that I would be lucky to see my 19th birthday, months flew by and recovery was in sight but nothing could’ve prepared us for what would happen next.  Before we knew Christmas was fast approaching but the unimaginable happened and a family and a life would hang in the balance.
What should’ve been the happiest day of the year was masked by sadness and an odd melancholy feeling seemed to loom over us like a thunder cloud. To anyone we just looked like your average father and child  but what you wouldn’t know is that just 13 days ago I attempted and almost succeeded in ending my own life via overdose.

As I tore the paper off my Christmas presents, a smile spread across my face. As I ran through the house at 07:00hours squealing “it’s Christmas”, I felt the familiar excitement that I did as a child. My Daddy smiled at me and looked at me with an expression that was one of joy yet extreme pain and sadness. Yes I’m 19 years old now and this is our second Christmas since my parents split but that is not why the atmosphere is far from that of Christmas, my father now treasures every moment with me since just 13 days ago I almost committed suicide by overdose. I came so close to death that doctors say I’m lucky to be alive. 

As I ran through the house squealing, tearing paper from gifts and stuffing myself full of chocolate my father watches from the distance. I know deep down he’s consumed by guilt and has so many questions for me but for now captures the moment in his heart. He is my hero and inspiration, from a troubled youth to a dedicated soldier to a father of 5 my dad has taught me so much about life. I am so thankful to everyone who loved and supported me through the last few weeks and I realise how lucky I am to have been here on this earth to celebrate Christmas this year. After all I almost didn’t get to see this day and I’ve lost so much but now I’m learning to Rebuild my broken life, start again and shoot for the moon! 

I spent my whole life being doubted, put down and made to feel inferior to my peers. I’ve battled through multiple mental illnesses alone. They said I wouldn’t see 19, I did. they said that overdose should’ve killed me – it didn’t. I was born a fighter and I will be forever. I may not have achieved my dream of being the soldier my father once was but I’m the child of a soldier who defied the odds at every turn and still continues the legacy my father began almost 35 years ago. I realise now that I’m only confined to hell by the walls I built myself -because remember that guy who gave up?! Yeah neither does anyone else. 

Tears and Pain – A week in a place worse than hell

**Possible trigger warning**

Part 3 – this post talks about the 4 days I spent in a residential respite unit following a suicide attempt by overdose. Please note that I have little memory of the Tuesday (December 13) and Wednesday (December 14) which leaves me relying on text conversations and my loved ones so apologies if this blog post is so long and a little muddled. I’m trying my best 
I hate being called strong, I’m not strong okay. If I was so strong I would never have picked up that blade and cut myself, I would never have swallowed those pills attempting to end my life. I certainly never would’ve started skipping meals because someone called me fat and I wouldn’t have started this stupid cycle of self destruction. So no I’m not “strong”, I’m far from it actually. Overdosing, cutting my thighs, faking smiles, drying my eyes, hating myself, hating my life- welcome to my world of lies. They told me life’s not going to be easy but they never told me it would be this hard.

Tuesday 13 December 

Arriving at the residential respite unit 

After checking in and being shown around I finally was shown my room. Feeling shaky on my feet and incredibly overwhelmed of the events of the past 24 hours (refer to the two posts prior to this) I insisted my mother leave. As I watched her drive away I was consumed by guilt – if I died last night she would have to tell my innocent young brothers that their big “sister” is never coming back,how would she tell them I died?, my partner would go to pieces, blaming herself for it, If we didn’t have the fight would I have attempted suicide?, my closest friends and colleagues would be left confused and trying to fill the void, would they blame themselves for never noticing? But ultimately my father would live with the regret of being just in the next room but totally clueless, would he blame himself for being distant or not talking to me at the time? Would he blame himself for never noticing when I took a fatal overdose and lied to him as I took off for the last time?

I fell to my knees and cried my eyes out. A nurse found me and came in to talk. I told her my fears about my girlfriend and all the other things that were going on in my life. The rest of the day passed in a bit of a blur .. I spent most of the day vaping and sitting alone outside worried about life, I didn’t eat today and then took my meds and went to bed, crying myself to sleep wishing she’d contact me and trying to remember yesterday which I can’t really remember much about. My risperidone seemed to lull me to sleep. In the risperidone haze my body had the familiar spasms as my thoughts began to slow down and next thing I knew .. my world went dark..

Wednesday 14 December 

Day 2 – Still can’t remember

 
A hazy memory of the last two days and heavy eyes from meds, I got out of bed, showered, took my morning meds and daddy came to drop off more meds and e liquid for my vape. I could see him staring at my scars or looking at me like I was gravely ill and it was killing me. He left about 1/2 hour later and I went and sat in my favourite place for a few hours – vaping and colouring in. I made a friend and we talked for while. Feeling wiped out from the meds and overdose I dragged myself back into bed and had a nap.

The nurse from psych emergency came out and did an assessment on me – I’m stuck here till Saturday! This feels like a prison sentence. My best friend/close work colleague came to visit for little over an hour and it was nice to catch up. She was very supportive and promised she’d be back tomorrow with more lollies and V!!  My friend that I made earlier had to be held by police and removed (taken to psych ward) because she went off the rails and had a major meltdown. This is when I had my visitor so we stayed in my room. An old army cadet sergeant was visiting a relative and wound up buying me smokes and we talked.Then My big sister arrived after my friend left and we smoked weed and took selfies. She stayed about an hour. Was so nice to know I had so much support. 

After my sister left I began to hear malicious voices and seeing faceless shadow people. I was slowly going off the rails believing I was the spawn of the devil and I was going so psychotic- I kept seeing faceless shadow people and my beloved Sophie and I was becoming so suicidal and meds weren’t helping.

It was late in the evening and I don’t remember or have any recollection of the next few hours but I know the unit had to phone psych emergency and the police. I was put in handcuffs and restrained. I shouted all sorts of insane expletives and insults as I sat handcuffed to the officer as the psych nurse (psych emergency) attempted to calm me down.They gave   me an extra 2mg of risperidone. Very doped out I was unable to react but the   voices tormented me. 

After a gruelling time with the police I must’ve fallen into a deep sleep because next thing I knew I was being woken by the staff (around 00:45 hours) for my night meds bringing my dose to 4.5mg. I cried as fear and panic had me in its grips as the shakes took over and my world turned to black…

Thursday 15 December

Day 3 – My Realisation

I woke today around 09:30hours and my day began with me realising – that an arrow can only be shot by pulling it backwards, just like  when life’s dragging you down with it’s difficulties it’s about to launch you into something great. Well that’s what I’m hoping anyway.So on that note I got up and grabbed my stuff and headed towards the shower. 

After a nice hot shower I wandered back into my room and sat down and spent little over an hour colouring in before going for my meds. After that I headed out to the garden for a smoke (about 11:30hours).I can’t say I’ve had much of an appetite since coming in here and I haven’t eaten anything except a packet of party mix and since Shan left I’ve been incredibly lonely. I went through another packet of smokes and used about 3 tanks of e liquid. I don’t talk to anyone in here so it’s very quiet and Im not allowed my iPod since my meltdown so I spend my time colouring and smoking. I also try ringing my girlfriend but she never answers the phone or my texts anymore and I no longer find relief in her voicemail recording – I just end up in tears. Will my baby girl ever talk to me again?

I sat in the garden smoking away until about 14:45hours. Being stuck in my mind is a very dark place and if you knew the secrets I’m hiding it’d probably break your heart. I went back into my room and had a short nap. Sleep is no longer peaceful, my dreams have turned to nightmares and as time ticks on I face the reality that I could be leaving here a single woman and Sophie will walk out of my life forever, or worse may have happened to her by now I guess I’ll never know. That breaks my heart more than anything else. I woke up in a cold sweat on the floor wrapped in a blanket with tears streaming down my face- I found myself  running for the shower and hoping I’ll be ok for my visitor arriving. I just got tidied up and hung my towels up before my favourite colleague arrived. (about 17:15 hours)

We sat in my room talking about work colleagues and life outside of here. She brought me a block of chocolate, party mix and a bottle of V. We sat on my bed talking and laughing she’s a brilliant distraction while I’m stuck here and She sat with me till near 1900 hours. I’m so grateful for her support!!  When she left I drank my V and wandered down to the kitchen where the other 4 residents were having dinner. I’m the youngest of 5 residents (I’m 19 and the others are 40+).

I was so nervous to eat and scared to be alive that the second I put one spoonful of mashed potato near my mouth, my stomach did a backflip. I spent the next 1/2 hour pushing my food around my plate. I’ve never been with people and felt this alone, quiet and scared.When  everyone was finished I headed back to my room, by now it was about 20:00hours, I rolled another 13 cigarettes and filled my vape up. Then I headed outside to my favourite spot in the garden and smoked away, I sat there thinking about life. Next thing I know darkness set in (as I was finishing my vape) I tried Sophie again but when it went to voicemail I had a huge meltdown. I headed in about 23:15 hours in tears. I had my risperidone and crawled into bed the world around me slowed down, my body crashed and the world turned to black…

Friday 16 December

Day 4 – An early release

With grace for good behaviour she got out before her time her mates and her neighbours told her she was looking fine. But she’s feeling several years older and her memory is rather slow, her father said “you’d think she was dead just like Marilyn Monroe!”

I woke up around 08:00hours and headed for the spa. Lounging in the bubbles that floated in the hot water all alone I realised that I didn’t belong in here, I realised I had to get the hell outta this place. Determined that today would be the day of an early release, I knew just what I had to do. After a nice long soak I crawled out of the spa and looked at the time. It was little after 09:00 hours, I chucked on my singlet and jeans and headed for the office. I spoke with staff and had a conversation with the guy from psych emergency who gave me permission to leave.

Running from the office I called my mother and she agreed to pick me up. I packed my belongings into my backpack, rolled some smokes and headed for my favourite spot for the final time. Smoking a few rollys and enjoying the sun I finally mumbled a hello to an older resident and then headed inside. My mother arrived around 11:00 and we headed off bound for my post OD checkup!

Still no word from Sophie and that breaks my heart more than anything else but I hold on to hope that she’ll reply soon. Each day it’s all I wish for, I’m losing hope but I have to be strong. This is the biggest battle of my life and I am slowly learning to live my life after the overdose that almost killed me. Hoping to father satan that Sophie will answer and all will be ok. But for now I live with the looming storm clouds of the unknown and a heart filled with sadness, regret,pain and darkness.
I’m sick of crying, tired of trying, yes today I’m smiling but inside I’m dying. Deep inside where nothing’s fine I’m slowly and psychotically going out of my mind. I used to fear depression, now I look into that mirror and want to smash it to pieces. I’ve put on so many fake smiles that I really don’t have any self confidence, I’m convinced that everyone will abandon me and I hate this place, I now understand why I hate it because of it I realise that the difference between you and me is that when you wake up your nightmare ends.

Picture attached is of the place I spent most of my time smoking and relaxing during the days I spent in respite