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Musings of a Madwoman 🖤

It watches, it consumes, it destroys- A journey of soul searching 🦋

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self harm

Eighth Letter To My Childhood Self 🖤

Whenever you feel like giving up, think about all the people who would love to see you fall. Even the devil doesn’t know what to do with a woman like you, the woman who just refused to  give up!

 

Dear Little E,

What a month, so many things are going on – and to make it to the ninth month clean from cutting! You’ll never understand how much anger and self hatred you had to take a blade to their own skin and tear it apart! You wanted someone to notice, but as soon as they did notice – you wished they never had. Since then, every time you wanted to cut, you remember the promise you made to them. You acted like it was nothing – but truly ? It was slowly destroying you. 

4am knows all of your secrets darling, but with broken wings you’ll learn to fly again baby girl! I see this girl in the mirror, I wonder who she is, sometimes I think I know her, sometimes I wish I did, There’s a heart wrenching story in her eyes, lullabies and goodbye, as she vacantly stares back at me, I can tell she’s hurting inside. Don’t ask me for my honesty Little E, cos it’ll have you in tears. You’ll survive though kiddo, because ya know I always did. It’s something you could never understand and I can’t explain.

I say I don’t want to tell you about it, I actually do – but I’m afraid of your reaction – that you’ll never see me as an equal again. I’m afraid of the pity in your eyes as you realize how screwed up I am. I don’t want to be this way I’m so lonely and lost because all I ever wanted was to be loved, what’s wrong with me? I just want to connect, why can’t i connect with people?

They all  promised you they’d never leave you, but where are they all now? He learned your secrets, the torture and the stories behind your cuts, scars, burns and flaws and then…. he walked away, just like all the others before him! 

Your Father always told you “Be with the man who enjoys your madness, not the idiot who’ll force you to be normal”. I met a guy about a month ago and he has saved me he was my saving grace – he’s 24 and his names Casey 🖤. I’ve spent every Sunday evening with him, watching movies, kissing and cuddling and talking about everything from life’s triumphs to life’s pitfalls and everything in between. He showed you the meaning of life and taught you how to love yourself and live again, and the most heartbreaking part of this story? – he has absolutely no idea that he gave you a reason to fight – he saved your life. Last Sunday we were laying in bed, cuddling and he traced the scars on my arms and thighs, and looked at me with those piercing eyes as he pulled me close to him “You’re so beautiful” I was taken by surprise – most guys see my hideous scars and walk away and he called me beautiful. “If ever you feel that way would you tell me?” I hung my head , a million thoughts raced through my mind. Tears filled my eyes as the eyeliner smeared down my face “what’s wrong?” he questioned “Because, I’d rather hurt myself, than anyone else”

It was then that I realized that he has seen me for the woman that I am, not my illness or imperfections. He has truly saved me, when we kissed it felt so right – I’ve always had a thing for the wildflowers, the bad boys I never believed anyone could truly love me. But It was there in his bed, with our bodies entwined in each others that I realized he actually sees me for who I am and vice versa. I’ve come to the realization recently that anyone can make you smile or cry but it takes someone incredibly special to make you smile when you already have tears in your eyes. This is what Casey has done for you, I can’t wait to see what becomes of the two of you now.It’s been a rough month but you’ve pulled through, people shouldn’t love you for your perfection, they should love you for the fact that you’re not.

I can’t wait to see what the month ahead is going to bring for you! Mental illness may have stole my life, friends, education, motivation, sanity but worst of all it stole me, but not this time I entered the most brutal battle of my own mind and took back the control. Even though the darkened abyss of mental illness stole what should’ve been the best years of your life  you came to realize that you want your own heart breaking story to be an inspiration to others, you want someone to look at you and say “Because of you, I never gave up”. Someone once told me that the people who’ve had horrific pasts ending up creating the best futures.

 

All in all Little E, this months advice for you: I’ve come to understand that while I’m in the company of those who don’t understand me that I was not put here on this earth to fit in to this chaotic world, I’m here to create my own. I’m searching for the one who’ll join me in my crazy, chaotic world and live with my insanity. I am embarking on the most intense journey in this realm and I don’t want to wonder alone, I wonder if Casey is my soul mate? He has been your saving grace, I always believed everyone in your life has a reason to be there, whether to be a lesson, a friend or part of your soul family.

Stay strong kiddo. The worlds a scary place but it’s you’re oyster now and all the opportunities that’ll come to you- you have so many people that love and want to support you.

All my love

Emmy 🦋

 

Nothing that’s worthwhile is ever easy, remember that. I don’t fight because I hate the situation in front of me, I fight because I love those who are behind me. No one loves the warrior until the enemy is at the gate.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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 son of an ex soldier and I spent 4 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.

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 man 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 for loving 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!

*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 developed bulimia 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 and I finally developed the courage to come out as gender fucked. 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 

The Day My Life Changed Forever 

**Trigger Warning**

Part two 
Society had spoken and nobody cared. She cried all alone for it’s a truth he struggled to bear, she bled most nights when no one was there she believed not one person would truly care, she tried her hardest to just remain here. She downed 50 pills and was sent to a chair, in the ER shedding her final  tears. She took one last breath, when she  collapsed from that chair  she embraced death. Please understand I kept this a secret for a reason – because the truth is worse than any lie I told to cover it up. 

Behind my smiles a hurting heart, behind my laugh I’m falling apart. Look closely at me and you will see the person I became .. isn’t really me. I just hate myself, every single thing about me is horrible – I literally have no motivation to save myself anymore.

Tuesday December 13 2016 

 06:17 hours – 12 hours later 
I could hear the sound of urgent chatter somewhere close by as my hazy vision lifted. I slowly began to understand the scene I found myself in  – I was in a hospital bed and alone in a cubicle. Wires attached me to a heart monitor, a nasal cannula was jammed up my nose, a sharp IV cannula lodged in the back of my hand and a gown draped loosely around me. Panic hit me as I struggled to remember a weak yet terrified scream escaped my mouth. Nurses came running as tears cascaded down my pale cheeks “Emily ..” she said “..it’s ok”. She asked me what was wrong and I asked her what had happened since the last memory I had was 12 ish hours ago.

Reality hit me, I was paralysed by fear and tortured by vague memories as she explained that after I checked in I fell to the floor and remained unconscious/stopped breathing. I had an IV cannula inserted into the back of my left hand and I had to be resuscitated and have my stomach pumped and they’ve been  monitoring me ever since. Tears silently spilled from my eyes as she left, I reached for my phone and called in sick at work. I honestly can’t remember what I said in that message but Within minutes my supervisor (my mother) had immediately phoned me back in tears and was on  her way to the hospital. 

Emotions swept over me as I lay alone in that bed. There was that odd melancholy feeling and a sense of guilt I couldn’t deny. My memory was hazy and I drifted in and out of consciousness before my mother flew through the curtain. Ashamed and speechless as she spoke softly to me and assured me all will be ok. She looked at me with tears in her eyes and whispered “I don’t have the words to make it right or you feel better, but I do have the arms to hold you, ears to listen to whatever you want to talk about and I have a heart that’s aching to see you smile again my baby”. It was at this moment that I realised how close I came to death and how lucky I  am to be here right now. I lay sobbing as I began to text my girlfriend. 
Approximately 09:45 hours 

I was consumed by guilt and swept up in emotional pain as my case manager arrived. She suggested I go into respite care. After a chat she left and shakily I got up and dressed myself. The cannula was removed and I was discharged. I still hadn’t heard from my girlfriend and it was breaking my heart.

When you’re heart has been shattered in to a million pieces, which piece do you follow?

As we pulled out of the parking lot bound for the residential respite unit, I still hadn’t heard from her and still feeling scared, sad and full of guilt. I felt bad for hurting myself but worst of all I’ve hurt my loved ones. Consumed by nerves as I wondered what the week would bring and whether my relationship with my beautiful girlfriend would survive. 

**Part 3 Coming Soon**

Lately I’ve been pretending like everything’s ok and that everything around me hasn’t collapsed. But this morning I woke up and realised I was the only one who relapsed. Scars on my wrists, scars on my thighs, eyes full of hurt and a mouth full of lies.

The End

This is part one

**Trigger warning **
It’s really sad how some days I seem to have everything going right and the within moments I’ve lost everything I’ve worked for. I spent a whole year convincing myself I was getting better, that I  was  recovering, but then I realised I’m no better than I was a year ago and that  I can’t even handle myself anymore!
I’ve been meaning to write this post for a few days  and I started planning it in the unit but couldn’t  bring myself to talk about it till now. Everyday got harder, like a nightmare progressing on. Each day another desperate plea echoed from my tired bones begging death to take me now!, everyday I closed up more and the burden became impossible to bear as I felt myself die some more. I’d lay there wondering what grisly way I would leave this hell because I’d never felt so much pain! 
At 5 years old she wanted to be a vet, At 8 years old she wanted to be a psychologist, At 10 years old she wanted to be a mortician. But at 13 years old she wanted to be invisible , At 16 years old she wished she was dead. However At 19 years old she attempted suicide for the second time and that time she almost succeeded …

 and this is where my story begins!
I was never scared of suicide or death – only what would happen to me if I failed. 

Summer 2016.  December 12 

A ghastly fight erupted between my partner Sophie and I which ended in me packing up my stuff and her driving me home to my place and numerous harsh words thrown around and spat at each other in retaliation.  Upon dragging my gear out of her car and screaming it’s over I was numb with shock. I wandered inside feeling so lost as I unpacked some stuff the shock began to wear off as the depressing suicidal thoughts kicked in. 
Rage hit me like a thunderstorm and I lost all control. Psychotic images filled my head and It was like My mind had been consumed by evil as eyes that weren’t mine spied 2 bottles of lorazepam laying amongst my underwear in a drawer! Before I could comprehend what I’d done I’d swallowed 30mg of the lorazepam as I stumbled back into reality panic set in, contacting Sophie with no reply and convinced it was over I packed my backpack and headed out the door, lying to my father saying that I was staying with my friend. 
I drove as quickly as I could to the local ER in utter panic. My life flashing before my eyes as I parked up, I was dancing with death as the reaper reached out for my hand. Determined my relationship was over and I had no real reason to live I pulled the almost full pill bottle out of my pocket and swallowed the last 15-20mg of lorazepam like it was candy. Euphoria hit me as chronic hallucinations kicked in and I realised that the end was almost upon me and that was when Sophie replied it dawned on me that I’d made a grave mistake.
Panic consumed me  as I stumbled through the parking lot psychotic images and sounds seemed to encapsulate me as the world around me became hazy and my breathing got slower, I was convinced I was going to die. Tears trickled down my pale lifeless face as I staggered through the doors and into the ER! 

I managed to mumble my name, age and situation to the triage nurse whose eyes only widened as I sobbed out of fear and panic. As  I checked in at reception the nurse shouted something to the nurses in the triage department. I staggered and stumbled to an empty seat alone and scared, I noticed  the pandemonium around me fading out as the sound of a heart monitor flatlining filled my ears, my breathing slowed as did my heartbeat. I realised the end was close, one final image filled my mind – my beautiful girlfriend, and her voice saying goodbye. It all happened so  quickly and next thing I know, the flatlining pierced my ears as my world turned to black ….

Then I Relapsed…

****TRIGGER WARNING****

“We all get addicted to something that takes away the pain” – a quote so true 

I often used to wonder how people became “addicted to self harm”, to hurting other people through themselves. I never understood it until it was me that had collapsed into an untidy heap on the floor, crying and screaming  with the blade in my hand and blood everywhere ! After the first cut I was  taunted by  a lingering temptation after the second I was trapped in the vicious web. I didn’t realise I was addicted until I tried to stop.

I became seriously addicted to cutting in February this year when my life was seriously in the toilet, I have a bit of a past with self harm at primary school I didn’t have many friends and my only friend was 3-4 years older than me and was a self Harmer we both tried to break bones, in high school – my first year I realised I was confused about my gender, genderless but I went to an all girls catholic high school but was so was heavily in denial that I cut a few times nothing major though, its happened occasionally over the years since then but this year was so much worse – I’ve had more than 10 admissions to hospital and a night in crisis respite because of it! The most I’ve gone since that day was 26 days clean. It’s an addiction that will take over your life! 

Self harm is one of the worst things I’ve ever done, it’s hurt not only me but everyone around me and I rue the day I picked up that blade and made the first slice.

Then I relapsed

4 days ago I cut again, I am disgusted,ashamed and deeply saddened that I did that to myself after being 26 days clean! I became depressive and suicidal whilst at work. I saw some industrial grade craft knife blades in a box on the shelf  near my bench and those familiar suicidal thoughts and the never ending dialogue of Mia filled my head. I slipped one of those sharp little blades into my pocket when no one was looking. 

I felt like I’d been possessed by the thoughts and I’d lost what little control I had !! No one around me seemed to notice what I was doing. Moments later, I found myself In the bathroom as the adrenaline took over me as I repeatedly cut my thigh. Guilt and shame set in as the blood streamed down my leg. I ran back to my bench instantly regretting what I had done. 

The next few hours were pure hell. My jeans were soaked with blood and I sunk into a depressive state. When my girlfriend came to pick me up I just felt revolting. I hate making her  worried though. We arrived at the ER of the local hospital and I was still bleeding quite a bit. I climbed into a wheelchair and got triaged. Within 1/2 an hour a student nurse had me in a bed she asked me a heap of  questions then proceeded to clean up the bloodied mess. Another nurse inspected the depth of my wounds and concluded that gluing and butterfly at stitching them is the best idea.

My girlfriend held my hand as wounds were glued and fixed up! Whilst waiting I passed out!!! When I was ok I was allowed to go. I’m now sat looking at the aftermath of what I’ve done to myself and realised I’ve once again succumbed to this brutally destructive addiction. 
It’s 1am and everyone I love is sleeping and I’m breaking down again, it’s a brutal addiction and u realise I am both the victim and the abuser. This is reality for me now one cut was all it took for addiction to have me in its grip. It saddens me to catch my loved ones looking at my scars and they say that they’re ok. 

I remember when I was young and I thought when I was a teenager I would be pretty successful and happier than ever and how I’d be up till 1am partying it’s kinda ironic really because little did I know that at 1am I would be sat here in emotional pain covered in scars, really depressed and fighting suicidal thoughts!

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