**Trigger Warning....Suicide** If you have any concerns for yourself or anyone you know, please contact a medical professional or helpline. This article relates to my experience and nothing is intended as advice.
I haven't been able to write about how desperate things have been getting recently. Maybe getting this out, might finally be a step in the right direction.
When I was admitted to The Priory in 2015 my psychiatrist said I was passively suicidal. I didn't really understand what that meant because, from my perspective, I knew I didn't want to be alive. But I didn't have a plan, or thoughts of how I would potentially end my life, and because I had a significant reason why I actually wouldn't end my own life, I had passive suicidal ideation. Who even knew that was a thing?
It does interest me the things that I now know that I didn't know previously. Mental illness has opened up a whole new world to me. I wonder if somehow this might end up being a positive thing. The jury is still out on that though!
There is passive suicidal ideation, and then there is active suicidal ideation. This is when the thoughts are more, well, active. Having more than a fleeting thought. Having a plan. And then possibly making an attempt.
For me, I guess I have spent a lot of time being passively suicidal over the years, but things have taken a shift, especially in the last two years. I've had plans. And it turns out that having a plan, or, a way, is more dangerous.
I've lost count of the number of times during a day that I think about ending my life. I can be driving down the road, minding my own business, and out of the blue, I will think about (or wish, even) getting in a car crash, and things ending. I will start to walk down the (marble) stairs and wonder about whether I would die if I were to fall down the stairs, and how annoyed I'd be if I fell and bumped my head and ended up with just bruises. I go to bed, and just like wishing on a star, there are a lot of nights where I wish that I won't wake up.
Sadly, these suicidal thoughts have gotten worse still since I started tracking my moods (and changing my meds). Every time my app asks me how I am feeling, I think about how I am feeling. Some would say (probably those without a mental illness), if it's making things worse, delete the app, and don't do it. So many others (doctors, therapists, patients) talk about the importance of mood tracking and identifying triggers, so I know this is something I need to do. The issue is, I don't know what to do with the realisations and distress I am coming up with in my tracking.
I KNOW that suicidal thoughts are not 'normal'. The more I find out, though, the more comfortable I am about the fact that these thoughts exist. The quantity, and the severity, and the plans, is where I run into problems.
Things got to a point this past weekend where I actually was a risk to myself. I guess 'plans' are all well and good, but getting to the point where the plan is being put into action, surprisingly actually really scared me, and I have never felt more helpless and alone in my life. I have seen suicide as my right. I see it as ending the constant turmoil and distress I am in. I see it as ending my pain.
Dr R asked me today, what if ending my current life doesn't end the pain? What if there is 'something' after our heart stops beating in this life? Now, I'm not religious in any way, shape or form, so I don't believe that we go to heaven or hell based on how we live our life. I believe that it all just ends. Dr R raised an interesting point though - I don't KNOW that is what happens. And I have no way of knowing, until it happens. What if I come back and have to re-live my life again?
(This, in the midst of a rather traumatic session, made me kind of smile, because I'm watching Drop Dead Diva on Netflix - this is about a girl called Deb who dies in a car crash and pushes a "return" button when she gets to heaven and ends up back on earth, but in the body of another person, Jane. I guess I'll be watching it through different eyes from now!).
For now, I start again. I am back to giving someone my word. Dr R doesn't know me - heck, I don't even know me! She's met me twice. I have had to trust her with my thoughts, and for today, she is trusting me with my word. She has given me much more comfort about the support I might receive if I find myself wanting to make an attempt. I have promised that I will see her on Sunday. I have promised that if I feel unsafe between now and then I will take myself to hospital. She has given me comfort that so long as I don't attempt anything, going to the hospital, especially because I am under the care of a psychiatrist and psychologist, won't land me in hot water.
I've written before about my stash, and how I gave most of it to Mr P, but how I managed to get some of the stash back. My stash gives me a kind of comfort. Yes, I know, that possibly doesn't make sense, but, it is what it is. I have told Dr R that I will not give up my stash. I have however, promised her that I will put it away, rather than keep it in the escape bag I threw together on Friday. I scared myself on Friday. As well as my stash, I took alcohol and a knife from our kitchen. I have not ever done that before.
We're only 11 days into July and it's been an eventful month already. Dr R was surprised that I have not had a continuation of care, or a treatment and wellness plan ever put in place. She has, for today, given me a glimmer of hope that it could get easier to navigate my life, with the right help. I guess only time will tell.
Wishing you the best day possible, love Becs xxxx
**As mentioned at the beginning of this post, if you have any suicidal thoughts or concerns for yourself or someone else, please contact a helpline or medical professional.