My Death Day, 2021.

*Talks about my breakdown in 2021, and my suicidal intentions*

On May 7^th, 2019, my one remaining friend, who I’d known for thirteen years, ended her own life. She was a wonderful person with a beautiful soul. She was my biggest cheerleader, and the only one who never once hurt me or let me down. She was the epitome of what a friend should be. She was lovely… she just couldn’t see it and couldn’t outlive her demons. I remember finding out and what it did to me. So many emotions followed – one was anger. Anger feels like a taboo response to suicide, as so many activists shout about suicide not being selfish… so it makes people think it’s wrong to be angry with their loved one for ending their own pain whilst passing it on to others. Even saying this, I fear people would attack me for saying such words. But the reality is people do feel angry when someone ends their life, and there’s nothing wrong with that. People say those left behind won’t experience as much pain and suffering as the suicidal person did, to make them end their life. But they don’t know that. Suicide is often one of those things that leaves loved ones contemplating the same fate.

Ever since she left, I have wanted to join her. I have envied her. My mental health deteriorated massively after she died. It was already awful. People say not to make the tragic loss of someone to suicide all about you… that it’s all about that person. Yes, it is about them and their pain… but as soon as they end their life it forms part of someone else’s story. It does affect other people. Suicidal people just can’t see that when they’re in that place… as they’re in too much pain themselves and they just want that pain to stop.

I know this as in 2021, on the second anniversary of my loss, I planned to join her. I had been going through something deeply traumatic since before the lockdowns and had tried unsuccessfully to resolve it. I knew if it couldn’t be resolved and lockdowns continued, I wouldn’t make it. I tried every avenue I could think of as I knew I was fighting for my life. But totally cornered, isolated and with every other door slammed in my face, it left me only one option… to end my life.

I wanted peace. It felt like the only other way to attain that. I was in so much emotional pain and distress…. more than anyone will ever know. Any trust I had in people was destroyed. My recovery was wrecked. I had been self-harming almost every day for months… to the point I couldn’t do any of the creative things I enjoyed. I stopped doing my walking I had done the previous year. I withdrew. I had nothing to hold onto anymore… nothing to live for, except my family. But even that wasn’t enough back then. I remember seeing the faces of my friend’s family at her funeral. I thought I could never do that to my own family. But that’s something she used to say too – that she wouldn’t put them through that. And she did. So, who’s to say I also wouldn’t?

I was in the darkest, loneliest place I’ve ever been in. I was terrified of my own mind. I didn’t know what I was capable of. What I was experiencing was too overpowering for me to stay alive for my family.

I started planning my death a couple of months in advance. In a perverse way, having the date kept me safer, as I just had to hold on until that date. I would stay up late at night, writing goodbye notes, researching how to do it, looking into acquiring anything I might need. I lived my life as though everything was a last time… the last time I’d see a person or a place. I pictured life without me. When future events were mentioned, I thought ‘I won’t be here for that’. I felt so much guilt about what I would put my family through…but I felt I had no other choice.

To start with the only person who knew what I was struggling with was my doctor. I had to reluctantly tell her about my suicidal intentions. She referred me to the acute mental health team, who phoned the next day. I was put under shared care and had phone calls every other day, and a home visit or two. It was all new to me and scary. I don’t like to think about that time very much.

While all of this was going on, I had people hounding me to deal with the issue, but given I was days away from being gone, I couldn’t handle it anymore. It got too much, and I broke down in front of my parents, told them what was happening and that I would soon be gone. I can’t imagine how distressing that would’ve been for them. It was for me. They’ve been my rock. They stepped in to handle the issue… to take the pressure off of me. But the damage had already been done. I was broken and exhausted mentally, physically and spiritually. I was emotionally scarred and traumatised, and the issue never got resolved. Even to this day it’s unresolved… this leaves me at the same crossroads I found myself at in 2021, and always will do until it is resolved.

On the day I intended to leave, a man from shared care came out to see me. It helped to talk… to feel seen, heard, validated. To experience sympathy and care – even if the mask caused an emotional disconnect for me. I hadn’t seen anyone else for a long time. I had stopped going out of the house by this time… and would spend many months unable to do so. So, interacting with another human felt odd to me.

With my family and the mental health team being aware of my intentions for that day, it made it harder for me to leave the house and do anything I had intended to. It reduced my options. I sat in the garden that evening, by the memorial I had set up for my friend the previous year during the first lockdown. I felt the breeze in my hair, the warmth of the sun on my skin. I heard the birds singing. I started to cry. I was so desperate for it to be the last time I’d hear the birds, feel the sun or the breeze. The urge to die was so intense.

I felt such a failure for having not yet followed through on it. I wished I hadn’t told anyone, as it restricted me. I vowed never to tell anyone again, as it stopped me doing it. People say it’s a good thing I reached out. Rationally I’d agree, but it didn’t feel like it at the time, and I even still battle those thoughts almost two years later.

To the last moment of that day, I wanted it to be my last – even attempting something when I went to bed, before stopping myself. Nobody knows about that. I didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. I hadn’t planned beyond that day. What would happen? There would be no safety net of some future date. I could become impulsive. I was terrified.

The suicidal thoughts continued long after that day. More than once I’ve picked new dates and told nobody about them. More than once I’ve researched or considered doing things and told nobody. Suicide is always there now, lurking in the background. I wonder if it’ll ever leave me alone now. With the thing that led to it still so unresolved, it leaves me feeling vulnerable to it. In some ways I’m in the same place I was two years ago. The only difference is I have more support. I have someone in my corner.

I’m under the CMHT and I had a care co-ordinator I got on well with… sadly she’s left now. I’ve had a support worker to try and help me get out of the house more and back on buses. Leaving the house is so difficult, even now.

I did CAT (cognitive analytical therapy) for four or five months. I got on really well with my therapist, and it was sad to lose her. But it was the first positive ending I’ve had in my whole life. I told her my fear that she would instantly forget me. She reassured me that wouldn’t be the case. As a result, I now no longer care if I’ve been forgotten. By giving me a positive ending, she reduced any emotional attachment I had towards her. Same with my care co-ordinator. Thankfully with CAT they are aware of the pain of endings and work on creating a positive ending, which has been severely lacking in my life.

I’ve learnt a lot about my mind. I now have a physical representation of it (my CAT map). I know my main issues are being misunderstood, unheard and rejected. I know how these roles keep playing out in relationships with others. I wish everyone would do CAT and learn about themselves – we might all be a bit gentler with each other and more understanding of each other’s feelings if we could all reflect on our emotional patterns. It’s been interesting and will be an important part of my recovery.

I still have a long way to go with my recovery. Even if my time with the CMHT is running out, the reason I ended up with them is very much still a problem. But one thing that’s come from my breakdown and seeing the mental health team, is that I’ve been referred for an autism assessment. I rejected the suggestion at first but having done my own research, I now firmly believe I’m on the spectrum – my whole life makes sense now. And the problem that led to me nearly ending my life, which is still ongoing, makes more sense too. I realised I have been masking all of my life – ever since people rejected who I was at school. I learnt how to act to feel somewhat accepted or included. I learnt to put others’ feelings ahead of my own… wanting them to feel comfortable, appreciated, loved etc. despite never getting any of that back. Masking felt like the only way to have friendships, as whenever I could no longer mask, I lost people. Whenever I revealed a deep part of my true self to anyone, it made them uncomfortable. That taught me I have to keep masking forever, so as not to lose people or make others feel bad.

It’s become easier to close off and not have connections with others, as I don’t have the energy for masking anymore, but experience has taught me I won’t be accepted for who I am, and to be honest I don’t know how to not mask outside of my house. I’ve been doing it for 30 years.

This isn’t a story about how I nearly ended my life but ‘look at how great my life is now’. That’s not always realistic. Sometimes there’s no happy ending and we have to just keep putting one foot in front of the other and hope we make it. If you’re in the same boat, I hope you make it, and I’ll do everything I can to keep going too. I’ve thrown myself into painting, piano, crochet and nature, all in a bid to raise my vibration, for the greater good. My breakdown led to a spiritual awakening, and I know my purpose now… so I just hope I can get the outcome I need, to enable me to stick around and fulfil that purpose.