Poem: Drowning Through Life.

My Prison Soul (1)


Drowning Through Life


That place between life and death,
That void…
That’s where you’ll find me;
Swimming around in an ocean of emotions
Too immense for the human soul to witness,
Or the human body to contain.
No breaths of relief can be taken here.
I choke on the fluidity of people’s inclination to care,
To stay there,
To see my worth;
I drown in the words unspoken,
The lack of sentiment, the lack of words.
I gulp down indifference
And gargle blame,
Lost in this sea where nobody recalls my name.
Even the sharks that usually circle at the scent of blood
Care little to devour me –
Nowhere to be seen;
Though I bleed profusely from my wounds,
I bleed not red but emerald green…
The colour of envy –
Envious of those who get to live on solid ground
And know not the horror of drowning through life;
Jealousy of those who matter to someone,
Whose cries can be heard and are satisfied
By a love, an interest, a connection,
The warmth of affection –
Not left to the ravaging currents of these ice-cold depths,
Forever a
My blood is water,
Water, my blood –
My broken heart feeding salt to the sea
Which then in turn reminds me of how those tears came to be.
Can anyone see me here, sinking under the waves?
Am I worthy of being saved?
You’ll see my face in a crowd
But I am not there –
My mind is elsewhere,
In that far-off land – unable to live, not ready to die,
With no-one to help me or to bid me goodbye.
Look for me in between these worlds,
Find my soul;
Please see me
And return me to myself,
Or else
I fear
These days will be my last.




Poem: Is This Hell?


Am I dead?
Have I departed this life already?
And rather than a ghost that haunts,
I myself am haunted…
Haunted by all I’ve lost, who I was, all who left.
Have I died, or is that yet to come
In some swift act of self-inflicted violence…?
Is this how I die… alone, unloved and in silence?
Can you see me, or see right through me?
Do these words even exist?
If I am dead, then I know for certain I am not missed.
Nobody noticed I wasn’t there.
Nobody cares.
They never would.
Can a ghost feel pain in their chest,
And a never-ending sense of unrest?
Is this Hell, or purgatory?
Am I yet to discover my destination?
Where do broken souls go?
The ones who never found peace in life
And chose death in its place….
Do we linger like this in time and space?
Nowhere to go and can’t move on…
Am I really dead and gone?
Is this all a dream?
Some altered state of reality from which I cannot awaken…
How else could so much have been taken
From my life?
Savagely cut from me with the bluntest of knives.
The Faceless People watching by as my world burns to dust.
Broken heart, broken trust.
They came to watch the show,
Lining up to see me go –
No goodbyes,
Only quiet disdain
For the girl who went insane
From too much trauma and pain…
Their backs were the last thing these haunted eyes would see.
If I am dead, then why can’t I be free?
Free to journey through the stars;
Reunited with loved ones, wherever they are…
This isn’t where I’m meant to be –
Bound to a world where no-one sees me.
If this indeed is purgatory, then Lord let me rise
To the sky and be by their side.
If that’s a place I do not belong,
Then have mercy on me, cast me into Hell… let me drop,
And let this ‘life’ be over….. please make it stop.




The Unfairness Of Life.

*Swearing near the end*



I have just realised why nobody talks to me anymore. For so long I’ve wondered why…. what I could possibly have done to them all. I thought of every reason – from them having their own stuff to think about, to not knowing what to say to someone grieving and suicidal. But it’s finally hit me…


They don’t talk to me and don’t want to be my friends because I blog. Because I’ve blogged about what I went through with my former best friend. They think if we were friends and they fell out with me I would blog about them too.


I can totally understand this thinking as well. And I don’t blame them for it. I can see how it’s my fault that I’m alone now. And I feel I deserve to be alone. That being said, I am not to blame for everything. As much as this goes against what I’m saying, I do blame my former best friend… for all of it. She may have decided to abandon me for a blog I wrote last year. That may be where she’s pinning the blame. But we had issues before that blog. She was neglecting me before that. I was ill and paranoid and grieving, and dealing with all that alone. The initial blog that caused issues with us was not about her. It was about paranoia and how it manifests as jealousy and possessiveness rather than the insecurity and fear it is. I was talking about self-fulfilling prophecies. I was right to talk about that as it’s exactly what happened. What happened after that was a misunderstanding. I felt rejected by her and like a burden to her. So I gave her the space it sounded like she wanted. But that’s not how she took it. She thought I asked for space. So she was waiting for me to approach her again. I couldn’t do that. I’d been rejected. I couldn’t put myself out there yet again. I was locked within myself. I did the best I could at the time and used my blog to break out of the bubble and communicate. Perhaps my pain and desperation stopped me wording it right. I know a lot was misinterpreted by her. But that’s the blog that offended her and she’s used as a scapegoat to ditch me.


But that blog was not the cause. It was the effect. Her abandoning me was the cause. The pain was the effect – and I used my blog to express my pain. I was also using it to fight for our friendship, though it clearly wasn’t received that way. I could’ve done what she was doing to me and stayed quiet…. never spoken again….. let apathy and indifference win the day. But because I bloody cared…. cared too much…. felt too much pain at losing her…. I had to say something. I had to get her to talk to me, as I couldn’t talk to her. It just went horrifically wrong, which led to her attacking and blaming me for everything. That’s what killed our friendship. That, plus snubbing me after I extended an olive branch at Christmas. And then blocking me etc. But I reckon I’m conveniently getting the blame, for blogging. I blogged because I was in pain and had nobody to turn to.


But now I think blogging my truth has cost me everyone else. And I’m angry with my former friend for that. Because had she treated me well, understood my illness and intentions, communicated with me properly and not run away and abandoned me at my lowest, I’d not feel so desperate that the only way to stay alive is to blog and let it all out. But nobody wants to know me now, as they think they’ll be the next topic for my blog. Well yeah…. as things stand at this moment in time I’m beyond being able to cope, and if they are like everyone else and refuse to treat me with the love, care, consistency and respect I need, and intend to hurt me then yes, they would probably end up being blogged about. But if they were decent people and intended to treat me well, then that’s a different story altogether.



What it’s demonstrating to me, yet again, is that some of us are destined for a life of pain, betrayal and abandonment. Life and the people in it will not let us move on.


People have endlessly hurt, betrayed and abandoned me…. unfortunately not everyone can bounce back from that. So I talk about the pain I’m in, and people don’t want to be there to prove I didn’t deserve to be treated that way. Because they think they’ll end up being talked about too.


It reminds me of how guys don’t want to be with a virgin. So you never get to change the fact you’re a virgin, because nobody ever gives you the chance to be anything other than one. So nobody will ever want to be with you because of the inexperience … and it never ends.


Just like I used to be thought of as ‘boring’. But nobody ever gave me a chance to prove I wasn’t. They never wanted to be my friend, spend time with me and see I wasn’t as quiet as I seemed, and I knew how to have fun. They chose to judge me on the opinions of others.


And the biggest of them all – when you are mentally ill and deteriorating, people want nothing to do with you. They only want to be around positive energy and those who are recovering.  It’s been the most sickening lesson of all in the past year or two…. as I have become more ill, people have talked to me less.


They don’t want to be around people who are depressed…. I heard as much on my therapy course two years ago – it was the thing that caused me to walk out the room until the break. Being mentally ill is tough enough without feeling people won’t want to be around you if you show how you feel.


I’ve spent years not showing my reality. Hiding my illness and depression behind a smile and a mask. I’d probably fit the profile of someone ‘high-functioning’. Not so much nowadays. Now my meltdowns are more public. I’m spiralling out of control and struggle to do life like before. I can’t pretend to be okay anymore. And people aren’t okay with that.


Even my best friend of about 13 years didn’t like my reality when she saw it. Yes I wore the mask for her too…. afraid I’d be alone if the reality of how I felt was known. I wasn’t being deliberately two-faced though. I knew no other way. I’m the person who got up after a BCG injection, gave a smile and said ‘thank you very much’. I’ve always wanted to be polite and to not make people feel uncomfortable. I don’t want to worry people or upset them, or bring them down. I’ve always felt like a burden. The fear of disappointing people or putting them out is the only thing that’s stopped me putting myself in hospital. The three times I’ve needed treatment were horrible for me emotionally. I felt so ashamed and guilty. But since the last two times – two years ago nearly – I’ve never really improved mentally. I have however become better at hiding things to some extent… usually until the point I explode. I’ve become more volatile…. unpredictable… unstable in my behaviour – because I’m trying to pretend to be better than I am, because I know nobody cares how I really am… but it’s harder to do now, so I very quickly slip into my ‘episodes’.


But it’s something I have noticed before – if you post about achievements despite your illness, or you talk about progress, people like it and encourage you. But if you say you’re not doing so well they give you a wide berth. Well they do with me for some reason. I notice they don’t with many other people. That’s why I think it’s personal against me specifically … being ignored is seriously increasing my paranoia… which makes me more ill… which makes people stay away even more. It’s a vicious circle.


We were taught about vicious circles in therapy, and about breaking them. The only way I can break my vicious circle is to miraculously not be mentally ill anymore! To not be traumatised! To pretend to be okay! I cannot and should not have to do this. People should care. And even if I did pretend to be okay now, it’s too late – these people will never be my friends. They’ve seen too much of me falling apart. The people in my life now will not want to know me anymore. It’s ruined. For good.


So I’m going to have to leave them all behind. I don’t see any of them begging me to stay in their lives. I won’t be missed. I’m alone anyway, so it won’t make any difference to me. I’ve been talking into a void for the last few months, with nobody noticing or replying to me, so I’ll keep talking to myself, like every sane and rational person does!


I don’t think any of these people I considered to be my friends will ever understand just how embarrassing and humiliating it has been to have such a public breakdown… to not be able to contain it…. to lose control of it and for it all to unravel and get worse and worse, and no matter what you say or do you cannot make it better again…. they don’t know what it’s like to feel like they’re all standing there watching me drown, and they’re not even considering reaching out a hand to save me. I think they’re willing me to drown. Alone. And that’s what I will do now.


I have a choice… I can choose these people, who don’t talk to me and don’t appear to care about me as a friend, or I can choose blogging. They’ve made my decision easier. I choose blogging. It may have caused a fuck-load of damage, but given there’s nothing left now – I’m so far down this path now I might as well keep going, these people aren’t here for me, the damage is done, I can never imagine liking myself again, let alone them liking me again, and the only one that’s ever been there for me, besides my friend who killed herself three months ago, is this damn blog. I choose the fucking blog.


Maybe one day my life will start afresh… with people who haven’t seen what a total freak I am…. people who care…. people who include me….. people who never leave me feeling I might as well be dead….. but then pigs might fly! I don’t see that happening. I don’t see anything other than blackness, screaming, pain and death. Nothing can undo these past few months. I can’t forget what I’ve experienced with people. And they won’t forget what they’ve witnessed in me. So there’s no hope of recovering anything that’s come before. The only hope I have, which I honestly can’t see at this point, is to build myself up as a new person, with new relationships. But this illness will always be a part of me. I fear I will never survive in this ‘social’ world as long as I have this illness. The pain is too much to bear. And I will never rid myself of the memories and scars of the past couple of years. You cannot escape the past. And my past will be the death of me.





Ripped Away.

*Suicide trigger*




This is one of the lowest points of my life. There have been many ups and downs, which so far I’ve managed to negotiate and struggle through. It’s different this time.


I’ve pulled myself out of dark places in the past… but I always had a reason to. I always had someone to help me… I’m talking about people outside of the family. When people hurt me or ditched me in the past, I always had someone who really seemed to have my back.  But now I don’t. I’ve had two major losses this year. Losing my best friend for God knows what reason – as far as I can tell, it’s because of my mental illness. And the other rock of mine, taking her life. I knew them both a couple of years off half my life. Now there’s nothing. I’m invisible. I don’t exist. I’ve lost those who I thought cared about me. I’ve lost my Godchildren. I’ve lost who I was.


I have no purpose. I have no reason to live. I have nothing to pull me through. When I lost my group of ‘friends’ in 2012, I still had my best friend. Now I’ve lost her, and I don’t understand why…. and I have nobody to help me with that. Liv’s gone.


I’m finding that hard to deal with today. The reality that she’s gone. And I should’ve done something to help her. I didn’t know things were that bad. I didn’t see her calling out for help. I was too wrapped up in my own hell. I should’ve been there for her. I let her down. Now I’ll never get the chance to make up for that. Because she’s not coming back. I have to live with the guilt of this forever. I have to live with the fact that I never got to see her again.


I’ve come out of darker times, to slightly less dark times before – I’m not sure I’ve ever fully seen the light again. But I’ve made progress. But this time I have to face it alone. And I’m having to pull myself out of places so dark I can’t even describe them. There are no words anymore. Nothing does the pain justice. Even the word ‘pain’ is inadequate. ‘Broken’ is inadequate. Any word to describe my emotions right now can’t come close to the level of what I feel. I feel, yet I don’t feel at the same time. I don’t feel real.


I’m praying for my heart to actually stop beating. To fully break and never work again. I want to wake up from this nightmare. The reason I can’t recover from this now is because I’ve seen too much of hell in the last two or three years…. I can’t un-see that. I live in a different world now. I don’t know anything anymore. And I have no anchor. I have no friends. I don’t have my rocks anymore. I am beyond lost. I am floating, and feel sick from the motion. I want my mind to break. I need to hit rock bottom now. I need to stop functioning. I need to stop thinking and feeling and hurting. I need it all to stop.


This can’t be my life. It isn’t fair.  I was someone who only wanted someone to love and to love me in return…. I got played, to the point I don’t believe in love anymore. I wanted friends, having grown up without any. They all destroyed me. I just wanted to not lose my best friend… I thought she deserved better than me, and was happier without me… I thought I was being replaced…. I didn’t want to burden her with my illness…..  I lost her…. she obviously agreed….. she is happier without me…. I was replaced…. and I clearly did burden her. I just wanted the love and support of my friends to help me through my grief and breakdown…. I got neglected and abandoned instead. The one person keeping me alive after all of that, ended her own life…. when I was feeling suicidal myself. And nobody is there for me through it. I’m constantly crying out for help. I don’t exist to anyone. I’m dead. And I’m just a burden to others.


All I’ve ever wanted was people to care and to love me… and to let me care about and love them. I’ve wanted people to not give up on me and leave me. And that’s all they’ve done. I wanted to matter, and I don’t. I wanted to be a priority for once. I never will be.


All I know is pain. Sadness. Loneliness. Abandonment. Betrayal. There is no happiness. No peace. No hope. I have nothing now. The world is so quiet, yet it goes on around me as though I’m not here.  But I feel distant. I feel dazed and in my own world, where all that exist are my thoughts and the hollowness in my chest, and the sick feeling in my stomach, and the tightening of my throat, and the tears in my eyes. And I sit here and pray for life to stop. Why can’t I just ‘give up’ on living and my heart just stops by me just willing it to? That’s what I want. I have no fight left in me.


I can see no recovery, because everything I thought was going to be in my future, has been ripped away from me this year. In the past I’ve at least been left with something… but I really have nothing.


There is nothing good about my life. I’ve achieved the grand total of nothing. I have no legacy to leave behind…. not like Liv. She did so much good, and she was so loved. I’m nothing and nobody.


I’ve started rationalising doing what Liv did. I’ve started telling myself I know it would hurt my family…. but a part of that would be for the future that is lost with me….. for all I could’ve been and done and had…. but that’s never going to happen anyway. I’m never going to have the life I wanted. I’m never going to find someone to love me, and have children with. I’m never going to be successful and make anyone proud. There’s no big loss…… in fact it would just ease the burden on everyone, to not have to worry about and care for me.


I’ve really never felt this low, and I’m completely isolated through it. I’ve been left in the dark. And that’s all there is. And all there ever will be now. ‘Who cares if one more light goes out?’ … this one wouldn’t be missed.


My mind has given up. My body is giving up. I feel paralysed, like I’m sprawled out on the floor, shattered, and can’t move, with the weight of everything bearing down on me. But time keeps ticking and my damn heart keeps beating. I can and often do stop the clock from ticking by taking the batteries out…. if only I could do the same with my heart. Either way, life goes on. And that’s the cruellest thing about life, for the grieving and the mentally ill…. life goes on, around us…. we’re left alone, living in pain for a lifetime, because nobody is really with us through everything. Nobody can understand how we feel.


The only thing that could’ve helped me was to have people step up and throw everything into helping me … caring…. worrying…. helping me see a glimmer of light again…. but there’s nobody to do that now. It’s silence. It’s black. It’s dead. I’m floating in the vacuum of space. And nobody can hear my screams.



Poem: Hell On Earth.

Hell On Earth

*Sorry about the length / quality of this poem…. been many, many months since I wrote any poetry, so rather rusty and had a lot to get out*
*Rare for me, but the use of a swear word in this one, and also violent imagery, mention of self-harm / suicidal feelings etc…. i.e. not a happy poem!!*

Hell On Earth

I’m trapped within a blind scream,
Starved of oxygen,
A sense of direction,
A place of safety.
The knives in my back twisting with every tumble
Through the unknown.
I try to pull them out, but they’re lodged right down to the bone.
Frightened, alone,
I pray to hit the ground and know peace…
The peace of Heaven.
This world is beyond my darkest nightmares,
A Hell on Earth.
A walk so uncertain and so full of pain;
For years I have soldiered on… now it feels it was all in vain.
Anyone I once called ‘my rock’, is dead or gone –
Giving up on me, or giving up on themselves
And taking the step into darkness,
In the quest to find the light once more.
Some left this Earth, others still walk it,
In blissful ignorance of the damage they caused.
Burning violence courses through my veins… but stays contained within.
The only time it ever shows is when I slice into my own skin.
Pain is the one thing I can control, in this fiery Hell.
I can’t make them love me.
I can’t make them stay.
I can’t make them treat me well and not walk away.
People are uncertainty, pain, danger.
Any moment they can let you go, leave you for dead,
Scarring you with their words and those left unsaid.
There’s nobody left…
I’m merely an empty shell,
A crazy girl in a prison cell,
A crippled mute down a deep, abandoned well.
No-one can hear my screams,
They never hit the air.
I cannot escape… I need help but there’s nobody there.
All I needed was someone to care,
To venture out on a limb,
Wear their heart on their sleeve and show me a little light,
But they turned their backs, strode away,
Gifting me the pitch-blackness of night.
The inner scream is torment… deafening.
I rip my own face in two to set it free
And destroy the universe with its power.
Every ‘rock’ from my past who walked away,
Threw me to the gutter, spat at me,
And stomped on my heart,
You belong in this Hell I’m living.
Fuck you, and all those who say I should be forgiving.
You are the ones deserving of suffering.
Yet here I lie, flattened against the wall,
Melting into oblivion,
My words of affection splattered next to me, rejected,
A stain of a memory of who I used to be,
You fractured my spirit until I no longer resemble me.
You made your choice,
You stole my voice,
Bound my hands,
Stabbed my heart,
Slit my wrists,
Made it intensely unbearable to exist,
Left me to die a bloody death all alone.
I wish I had a heart made of stone,
Just like you all, then maybe I could live,
Cope with the torture of breathing, in a world such as this.
Hard, raw, vivid, painful, terrifying in its reality.
Nothing is safe.
Everyone’s dying,
And nobody will care when I do.
They’ll celebrate my demise,
If they even notice at all, having severed all ties.
Neglected by the living,
Abandoned by the dead,
In order to survive I’ve cried, I’ve screamed, I’ve bled.
My knuckles bruised, my skin scarred and red,
Living is too hard.
The instability of life,
The accumulation of knives in my spine,
The loneliness, the trauma, the loss…
I’ve nothing left,
You killed me.
Leaving me, with no goodbye,
Now take your seat and watch me die.



All I Wanted Was…

All I wanted was my best friend back.
That’s all I wanted.
To know she cared about me, worried about me, and appreciated me.
To have her reassurance…
To feel safe in our friendship….
To know she wasn’t going anywhere…
I needed that stability and safety…. my world had collapsed after my first loss.
I needed to know she wouldn’t abandon me when my mental health deteriorated.
I needed to know I could count on her.
I wanted her to love me at my worst, because that’s when I needed her most.

I wanted my best friend to research my illness.
I wanted her to try her best to understand BPD….
And the concepts of paranoia, splitting and trauma.
To do this much for me, as I would for her.
To learn how to better support me and preserve our friendship.
To not hold my illness against me.
To understand why I am the way I am.
And why I do the things I do.


I wanted to see my Godchildren – the reason for me living.
I wanted my friend to help me find that lost part of me again.
I had lost faith in myself and thought I wasn’t good enough for them.
I needed my friend to help me see this wasn’t true.


I wanted to be a part of their lives… to watch them grow up.
I felt so proud watching them learn new things.
It’s been 15 months… so much has changed. They will not remember me.
I wanted to continue being there for them for the rest of my life.
I pictured the future with them. Now that future is gone.
And I will never see them again.
It’s not like a divorce where both parents see the kids.
I have no rights.
No way of seeing them.
I’ve lost them forever.
I’m heartbroken.


I only wanted to matter to my best friend.
For her to want to talk to me, to see me, to fight for me.
For her to not turn her back when I needed her most.
For her to ease my fear that I was being replaced.
I wanted her to understand how worthless I felt…
That I didn’t feel I deserved her.
That I was scared of losing her.
I wanted her to ease my pain, not add to it.
All I wanted was for my best friend to not be like the rest of them.
To apologise and make amends.
To not blame it all on me.
To use the difficulties to make us stronger.
To prove to me that bumps in the road don’t mean the end.
To make me feel safe to be honest with her if I felt hurt.
To not just give up on me at the first hurdle.
To not ‘ghost’ me and walk away making me think she hates me.

All I wanted was my best friend to show me empathy and compassion.
Even if she couldn’t understand my illness.
I wanted her to tell me words I needed to hear –
“I care about you”
“You’re my best friend and always will be”
“I miss you”
“I love you”
“I’m so thankful to have you in my life”
“I’m not going to leave you”
Is it too much to ask for caring words whilst suffering?


All I wanted was my best friend to make effort for me.
To send me a note that she’s thinking of me.
To ask how I am.
To give me a photo of us, to remind me of our bond.
To send some flowers.
To invite me for a coffee.
Anything to let me know I existed and mattered to her.
To match my efforts.
All I wanted was for my best friend to notice how hard I was trying…
To cope with my illness. Alone.
To cope with my first major loss. Alone.
To sort things out with her, despite my illness, even though she had given up on me.
All I wanted was to feature on my best friend’s list of priorities.
I knew I was nowhere near the top anymore.
But I wanted to feel I mattered on some level.
I wanted to not feel like a burden to her.
I honestly believed I was.
I wanted her to treat me otherwise.


All I wanted was to put my mental health first.
For my friend to put my mental health first.
For my friend to agree it was important.
For her to understand why I had to make the decision to step back.
For her to realise if she couldn’t make a choice then I had to.
That it wasn’t fair to string me along.
That it didn’t mean we couldn’t talk.
That she overreacted by blocking me.
All I wanted was my friend not to hurt me.
Not to block me.
Not to remove herself from my group after finding out it would hurt me.
Not to reconnect with the one person who came between our friendship before.
To stop doing these things she knows would hurt me.
To stop doing these things TO hurt me.
To want to ease my pain, not cause it.


All I wanted was my friend to put thought into how to make it up to me.
How to resolve things with me.
To focus on that, and not do anything further to jeopardise it.

I just wanted to be fought for.
To matter enough to my best friend to not let me go without a fight.
To matter enough to just one person, to not simply give up on me.
As though I’m worthless.


I wanted to be able to live life.
I wanted my friend to wish the best for me in life.
I wanted my best friend to care whether I live or die.
For her to stop doing things that push me closer to the edge.
I felt she actually wanted me to kill myself.
I wanted this to not be true.
I wanted her to do anything to have me as her friend.
I wanted to believe I meant as much to her as she did to me.


Most of all I want this all to be a nightmare.
To wake up and have my best friend back.
And for none of this to have happened.
I want to be okay again.
I want to not be alone.
I want trust.
And hope.
I want peace.
And I want the pain to stop.




Bad Night.

Really not okay tonight. Feel too hurt to put into words. Hope I’ll be able to do so in the coming days. Having this illness sucks. Having people who were supposed to be friends, abusing your vulnerability and doing everything they can to hurt you, sucks even more. Don’t know how to feel, what to say or what to do. How to cope. Really haven’t tonight. Have to take a pill and hope I’ll fall asleep eventually. It’s almost 3am. Mind is in chaos. I’ve had enough of feeling and living at this point. I’ll reassess in the morning.

Nothing Left.

*Suicidal feelings*

I’m going to be brutally honest… I’m really struggling with who I am right now. I’m hating myself. The urges I’m having….. the thoughts…. and I’m starting to split on everyone again… I’m isolating and paranoid. I’m feeling so hopeless about life. I feel so lost and frustrated and I’m seriously considering doing something ‘stupid’. I’m scared at how quickly things have changed.


I feel like my life is over. I’ve lost everything. I feel so powerless. I was awake until 3am, just thinking and trying not to cry. I imagined ending my life. I almost ‘planned’ it. I guess it was more ‘fantasising’ about it…. not in a glorifying way, but rather a means of finding peace. Imagining that if I wanted to I could make this hell stop. That I had that power. That I at least have a choice about something in my life.


The urges I’m having are out of character and I’m ashamed that I even have them. But I know it’s part of my illness. It’s not who I am. I would never pursue a married man. I would never try to wreck a marriage. I would never stalk anyone. I would never hurt anyone. I would never share pictures and information about my self-harm. I would never trigger people with the details of how I want to end my life. I would never do any of these things. They’re the thoughts of an ill mind.


Having these sorts of urges makes me hate myself so much. I feel like an awful person. I would never do them…. not in a rational state of mind. But the bit that worries me is that there’s that part of me again that just wants to switch off the rational side of me. I want to lose my conscience. I want to not care anymore. I want to be free from my morals. I want to self-destruct, go insane and do as much damage to myself and to those who have hurt me as I can, and then it’ll be easier to end my life.


I experienced all this a year ago. Must be something about this time of year. It was scary then… it’s terrifying now. I was doubting my friendships too, but still had a basic hope that I had one friend who was on my side. Now I don’t even have that. She left me. Now I have no anchor. The way things ended with her has really affected me. I’m so angry I want to split the sky apart with my hands and scream into the void. But I’m powerless. There’s nothing I can do to cope with how I feel. It’s just added to the massive pile of trauma. And people would say to just move on and forget it… focus on the future. They have no clue what it’s like to not be able to move on. To not be able to let go or forget. I would give anything to be able to forget and to live a life free of emotional trauma and pain. The fact the memories are stuck to me like superglue is sickening. They’re a part of me – you can’t sever the two of us… they’re in my cells. I can’t cope with this. So much loss. So much hurt and betrayal. So much sadness. So much hate. And nothing I can do about it.


I’m scared to ask for help because people will just invalidate me and think it’s easy to fix. It’s not. My life is a mess. I literally cannot trust anything or anyone anymore. I feel sick. I cannot trust men. I cannot trust ‘friends’. I cannot trust mental health services. I cannot trust my own judgment. Look, I thought I knew my friend of 14 years… I didn’t… all this time she was a ticking timebomb, waiting to explode and abandon me. I never knew she was someone who would just give up on me at the first sign of trouble. I didn’t know she was someone who doesn’t stick around to fix things. I had no clue how at risk I was all that time… fearing rejection and abandonment… and she was there hiding how easily she’d do it. I feel sick to think that for all those years I thought I knew her. I didn’t know her at all. She was always a threat to my mental health. She was the opposite of what I need – stability, consistency, certainty. I didn’t see it.


Now I don’t know how I’ll ever open up to anyone ever again. I don’t want friends. Because I obviously repel them. There’s obviously something fundamentally wrong with me as a person. I’m obviously that hideous, embarrassing and horrible a person, that everyone leaves me. They all hurt me, ghost me and leave me broken. I’m not fixable this time. And I can’t risk any more hurt, from anyone.


I don’t want to live in this world right now. I don’t want to be around people. And I don’t want to not be around people. What’s the point in being here… existing… alone? I’ve always been alone. I’m used to it. But it’s starting to make me question what the point of living is. I’m just living so as not to cause pain and sadness to those I love, by ending my life. That’s the only reason I have now. And I hate having to live, with no reason to other than that. I hate feeling stuck here, just having ‘friends’ endlessly shit on me and abandoning me, making it so much more painful to just hold on.


I’m at that point again where I want to not care about the feelings of those I love. I want to be able to end my life. I want to be ‘selfish’. I want to be able to end my pain.


I hate my former friend. I hate everyone else who ever contributed to how I feel now… the bullies at school, Hannah, Sam, Gill, Adam, Evan, Joe, Lou. They all messed me up. They have no clue how much. They’ve made me believe I’m worth nothing.

One ghosted me for no good reason at all.
One abandoned me yet strung me along, all the while cheating on me.
One played mind-games with me and used me as an ego stroke.
One attacked me and painted herself as the victim, badmouthing me to others.
One stabbed me in the back in one of the worst ways a friend could. Breaking the girl-code.
One never showed they valued our friendship, and they didn’t fight for me. They let me go thinking they hated me.
One abandoned me at the worst time of my life and blamed it all on me, blocking me & doing things to deliberately cause me pain and punish me.


I hate them all. And they’re all fine. They don’t care what they’ve done to me. I don’t matter to them. I never did. I don’t matter to anyone. I’m invisible in this world. I honestly feel if I died tomorrow nobody would notice. That’s how alone I feel. How irrelevant I feel. How worthless I’ve been made to feel.


I want someone to swoop in and save me. There’s nobody left. I don’t have a safety net. I don’t have a support network. I don’t have professional help. And yes I want to run to Matt. I want him to hold me and to fix things. And he can’t, if for no other reason than professional rules. He wouldn’t even remember my name anymore. I’m insignificant as usual. I’m nothing. I know it can’t be. I know it’s all in my head. That doesn’t mean it isn’t real to me. And that I don’t feel this way, and that I don’t want him to rescue me. I want to feel safe. And I haven’t felt safe since the end of that course and losing him.


There’s constant conflict in my mind. I can’t find peace. I’m sick of the conflict. That’s why I want to just be able to let go and not care about the consequences. I want to completely lose the plot. Trying to hold it together is what’s making life so much harder right now. But I can’t let go. I have to be strong. It’s too much pressure. I don’t know what to do.


I have no friends. It’s a fact now. I hate everyone. Everyone hates me. Or more accurately they don’t care about me enough to hate me. I trust nobody, not even myself. I see no point in anything. I can’t escape the past. I’m a failure. I’m basically just waiting to die. I hate myself. I hate my thoughts and my urges. I’m losing myself. And apart from being scared, I don’t really care. Nobody knows how I feel right now. I can’t let them know. They wouldn’t understand.


My greatest fears became reality. And now I don’t want reality. I just want off this ride. I want the feelings to stop. For good.

Pain Is A Constant.

*Depressing, self-pitying ramble about self-harm and life*



Why do I self-harm? To punish myself. To express an emotional wound physically, as that’s easier to cope with and treat. To stop feeling overwhelming emotions. To bring myself back to reality.

The main one is because it’s the one damn thing in this life I have control over. I can’t choose how people will treat me. I can’t choose if and when they’ll abandon me. I can’t choose not to lose people to death. I can’t choose what I look like and who I am. I can’t choose the physical and mental illnesses I have. I can’t choose to matter to anyone. I can’t choose anything about my life. I’m powerless. This is how I feel. And self-harm is the one thing that I can choose. It’s the one thing that never leaves me. It’s the one constant. The one certainty in my life.

I know that’s depressing to read. It’s depressing to say. I’m actually trying to hold back tears as I write this, having relapsed again after nine days without any harming.

I try so hard not to hurt myself now. But when words start coming out of my mouth that scare me… vile, nasty, violent words against other people… saying things that I wish would happen to them, or things I would do (not that I ever would do them, I hope), I don’t like that person, and I’d rather take out my anger on myself than hurt anyone else.

I can’t control what’s happening in life. I can’t control the monumental betrayal that’s happening in our country right now. I can’t be heard. I can’t control the situation with my friend who abandoned me at my lowest ebb. I can’t be understood. I can’t control certain people in my life who are toxic and make me feel like shit, just because they won’t look at themselves and change their behaviour. I can’t escape these people. I can’t control death. I’ve lost someone. I will lose more. I can’t stop that.

Nobody has my back. Only self-harm. It’s my only friend now. I choose what I do and how much I do it. It is certainty. Yes there are uncertainties about the outcomes of what I do. But for me, pain is a constant. It is certain. I needed certainty after losing my granddad. All I’ve had is people walking away from me and rejecting me. People hurting me. Ignoring me. Forgetting me. It’s been loss after loss, after loss. And I hate them all for it. Nothing is certain now. Friendship isn’t certain anymore. My belief in it has been completely shattered. I cannot trust anything or anyone anymore. Only pain. Only the pain I inflict on myself.

I’ve had a few good days again. But the more you hope… the more positive you are, the further you fall when you do…. and you will. Nothing lasts. Nothing. Not even self-harm wounds / injuries. But in my mind at least I can do it again. I can bring back that pain. I never have to lose self-harm. Everything else that ends gets ripped away from me and I never recover from it. I never get it back. I never get anything close to it again. Every single time I lose something / someone, a piece of me gets taken away, and my trust is obliterated. Every time, I say I’m never getting that close to anyone again… never getting that attached. I will never have a best friend again. Ever. I can’t afford to let anyone that close to me because the wound they leave when they turn their back on me is too big a risk. I’ll never get close to a man again. They all hurt me. Even the ones who are good, never quite go that extra step to be what I need.

I’m just tired of being me, and of being hurt… and nobody ever going quite far enough to keep me in their life. Life is loss. But I will never lose the ability to cut myself or hit myself. It’s the one thing nobody can ever take away from me when they’ve taken everything else I have left in me.


*Self-harm & suicidal thoughts*


I feel so ashamed today. I feel broken and done with life. I finally cracked. This had been building for the last few weeks, if not months. I was triggered by someone saying something and the switch was flipped. I had no control anymore. I don’t fully remember everything…. I wish I could forget it all actually. I just remember running out of the room, shutting myself away…. shouting, swearing, roaring the house down, punching something, collapsing on the floor, crying…. I don’t know how I got a grazed knee….. I don’t know how I did so much damage to my hand when I had a bandage on. I don’t remember getting from A to B.


I had to pull myself together and apologise to the person who triggered me. They can’t help saying hurtful things – they’re not aware it’s hurtful. It’s a condition. I ruined their day. But there’s been a pressure building on me, for many reasons, some I will write about soon…. but a series of events happened in the immediate lead-up to it, and I exploded.


I had to take two diazepam straight afterwards…… and I was shaking and struggling to breathe. I always feel disconnected from reality at the moment, but that was another level … that was out-of-body stuff…. not even like watching myself do these things…. almost not seeing them at all. It was like during that episode I had no eyes, if that makes sense? I could hear… I could feel, more or less…. it was terrifying.


I have a very sore hand now, and I felt so awful about what had happened, that I put on a brave face to try and improve the day for others, but I knew as soon as I had the chance I would self-harm to punish myself. I did, and that was a scary experience too. I’ve either done myself damage or very nearly did, as it felt different. It’ll take a long time to recover. But the memory of the emotions and the shame will never leave.


I hate being this person. I hate who I am. I hate this illness. I hate all the shit that’s happening to me at the moment. I hate living. I can’t do this much longer. I can’t be around people. I can’t live in this amount of pain. Anyone who can be cut out of my life, who has hurt me, they’re gone now. They have to be, unless they’re trying to make me feel better. I deserve better. I’ll be writing about this. There are enough people who bring me pain, who I cannot cut out of my life. I can’t take any more. If they can go, they will. This is all their fault anyway. I didn’t deserve what they did to me. That’s for another blog.


I can’t get over the guilt from today. And I keep reliving it….. even though there are blanks in my memory, I’m replaying all that I remember. It’s been a traumatic day. I keep wanting to cry because I feel like a horrible person. I don’t want this to be my life. I don’t see how I can avoid it though. There is no warning…. it really is the flick of a switch and I’m out of my body, running, shouting, punching. I don’t want people to hate me for it. I’m so scared and paranoid now that people blame me, hate me and judge me because of it. I feel so embarrassed. Ashamed. I just keep wanting to punish myself for it over and over again. I wrote most of this earlier, and now the urges have started again… and the tears… having outbursts like today just make me want to live even less than I already do. I just feel everyone would be so much happier and at peace if I wasn’t here.


I’ve been offered a reason to get up tomorrow, to do something…. probably just so I’m not on my own…. I’ll do it, but all I want to do is hide in my bed. I’m in so much pain right now. I just shouldn’t be allowed to talk to anyone. I hate myself so much. And I hate the world too. There are a few nice people in it, who unfortunately don’t live that near to me, most of them. But besides that I just don’t want to be a part of this world anymore. It’s a difficult enough experience for me on my better days…. but I’ve been hurt and abandoned and left to cope on my own, with more pain than anyone could imagine. I’m constantly in a war with my mind… and I’m losing. I want to surrender.


I started off as a mess with no friends…. I gained friends – a group of friends….. and then one by one they hurt me or abandoned me…. as I got more ill more of them left, giving me more reason to be ill ….. and then there was me…. back where I was 10 / 15 years ago…. but worse. This is much worse. I have fewer reasons to live now. I am more violent to myself. I’ve been through too much that has broken and traumatised me…. I just want it all to end. I just want something good to happen. I want people to stop hurting me. Please. This isn’t fair. Are you all trying to kill me? If you want me out of your life that much then just keep doing what you’re doing, it won’t be long.


So much can change in a year…. the last year has seen me spiral down to the lowest I’ve ever been…… and everyone pretty much sat by and watched it happen. Some even blamed me for it. You can’t forget that sort of pain. I wish I could take a pill to forget everything and everyone who ever hurt me. To start anew … I can’t live this life with this mind and its memories. It’s impossible.


All I can hope is that I’ll fall asleep. Sleeping is the only escape I have in this hell others call ‘life’. It’s better than living. I wake up every day to a never-ending and worsening nightmare. I hope one day I don’t wake up.

Bad Mental Health Day… (Rant)

*Strong language, self-harm and suicide references. Read with care*



There is no such thing as a ‘good mental health day’ for me, not for a long time now. But I can tell the particularly bad ones apart from the rest. Today is one of those. In fact all week has been. There is no imminent reason. Nothing’s changing. Nothing is happening that hasn’t been happening all year…. just sometimes you can’t cope with things as well.


If you looked at me you wouldn’t think I was any worse than usual. My usual has become more depressed – so not going out, getting dressed, brushing my hair has become the new normal. So although you’d know things aren’t ‘good’, you wouldn’t know that I spent this morning trying to research where to cut myself to do more damage. Or that I went onto a site to find out the least painful way to kill yourself – of course it was one of those sites that reels you in and tells you not to do it and to reach out to Jesus instead! But looking up these things is something new. I’ve been self-harming for half my life now. I’m not new to it. So I have no reason to research, other than I want to cause more damage. That’s how bad I have become with my mental health.


I know I have probably already damaged my hand from punching a wall weeks ago… I still have pain and it seems deformed. But that doesn’t stop me wanting to make it worse. A professional could say to me ‘You might break your hand’… but the state I’m in now, that’s not an incentive to stop hitting the wall… it’s more like ‘…. good’. If you’ve never been in that state of mind you would think I’m a psycho. I don’t have the energy to tell you why you’re wrong anymore. Not today. It’s like when I lost my friend a few weeks ago, I harmed myself so badly I bruised the tendon in my arm again. And I want to do that again. I want pain. I want blood. I want bruising. I want damage. I have nothing left.


My mental health has become so bad it cost me friendships I thought I’d never lose. Mental health services won’t help me. I’m too unwell to do my voluntary work. I don’t leave the house. Unless it’s to do something with family. That’s all I have now. Nothing else. And I hate the world outside my family. I hate them with a passion.


My existence is just tolerance now. Tolerating uncomfortable emotions, which seem to always be there. I have no professional support. No social support from friends. Yes there are one or two people I talk to online. But no close friends in real life. ‘Make some new friends – take up a new activity’….. fuck off. Do you actually know what it’s like to feel how I do today? Do you know what it’s like to have lost everything and to feel so suicidal and to just want to keep cutting yourself over and over again? And how hard it is to have self-worth buried six feet under the floorboards. To have paranoia and anxiety about going outside the front door, let alone to meet new people and have to trust them to not abandon you, like even your most trusted friends have?? Do you know what it’s like to not want to live anymore, therefore how hard it is to do things that would improve your life? And to have to cope with this all on my fucking own?


Mental health services I think, are too fixated by this ‘You have to want to get better…. you have to put in the work, I can’t do it for you’ crap. Yes, of course I have to put in effort – it’s what I did at therapy, at DBT… I’ve always been the one to help myself, with support. But what about times like now? What about when someone can’t help themselves anymore, because they’ve been allowed to spiral to the point of apathy and despair? What about when I can’t even picture feeling better…. when I can’t even see a future…. when I feel so paralysed and isolated and unsafe in this world….. what then? If I’m unable to help myself straight off the bat does that mean I’m undeserving of help? Do you have to be able to help yourself otherwise you’re just seen as a lost cause? Because the trouble is I’ve felt like a lost cause all year. Nobody has proven otherwise. My friends left me. CMHT won’t help me. They think as I’ve done DBT there’s nothing more they can offer me. As if ‘Well if that didn’t help you, nothing will….. just look at your folder and use your skills’. Thanks. I’m beyond being directed to a folder I made over ten years ago. I need actual human help to dig me out of this grave I’m existing in. I’m being buried by pain and nobody wants to help me with that pain. Nobody wants to understand it, validate it, or tell me what the hell is wrong with me and how to treat it. I need help. I need compassion. I need effort. I need to know I’m worth something in this world. Because I’ve lost that and I see no other reason to live than to not hurt my family.


Why won’t anybody HELP me? 


Nobody gets how difficult it is to keep living right now. I am constantly wanting to hurt myself because at least that’s the sort of pain I can ‘tolerate’. Tolerating paranoia, anxiety, suicidal thoughts, chaotic thoughts, disturbing images, crippling depression, isolation, self-hatred, guilt from wanting to die, fear of abandonment, feeling helpless, hopeless and a failure, and the biggest desire to just not feel anything anymore…. that sort of tolerance is something I can’t do. Not without help. The help I can’t get. So I live in hell, experiencing all those things because I can’t get help, and I can’t kill myself because I love my family. So I suffer. And people leave me because I’m suffering. But they have no clue that I’m going through all this hell. So I self-harm to externalise my suffering. To take the focus off the inner turmoil. And I live with the physical pain too. The emotional pain would kill me otherwise. On the scale it is right now it’s not something I could deal with.


I feel pain because of abandonment. I feel pain because of grief – that’s been particularly hard this week for some reason. I don’t tend to self-harm because of the sadness of my loss. I don’t think I ever have. I usually just let myself cry. It’s only this week that the pain of grief felt too strong that I thought about self-harming to stop it. But I didn’t. But I do self-harm as a result of other things that I can’t cope with so well now, as the grief has made me vulnerable. I view life through a different lens now. Life is just a waiting room… waiting for your appointment with death. My outlook on life has become morbid. I know I have to do some work on grief, but grief is not the biggest problem in my life right now. Other people are. And I can’t cope with them. I can’t cope with being around people, or talking to them. It’s too much.


I  also feel pain from things that happened over the years. I feel pain at realising my closest friends didn’t really care about me. I feel pain at the loss I experienced at therapy last year. That keeps trying to rear its ugly head. I have to try and block it out at times like this. I have enough trying to kill me without that joining in. It’s just when times are like they are at the moment, I want to run back to those days and the therapists who ran the course. I have nothing now. I feel pain about all the online abuse I’ve had this year too. I feel pain at not receiving help. I feel pain from everything and everyone. There’s that saying –


“People with BPD are like people with third degree burns over 90% of their bodies. Lacking emotional skin, they feel agony at the slightest touch or movement.” ….. 


Usually I feel the agony at the slightest touch …  as in ‘how people treat me’… but now I feel it from every movement I make …  as in ‘nobody has to even do anything bad to me, just living hurts’. People talking to me and people NOT talking to me both hurt me…. so it’s better just to deliberately stay away from people. But it still hurts, because they don’t come looking for me, fighting for me. So whatever I do… or don’t do… hurts. Living just hurts. 


It’s taken all day to write this. I ramble so much and yet never feel I’ve said enough. I can’t ever release the chaos I feel inside, and I worry I don’t express it well enough for anyone to understand the hell I’m in.


Today is a very bad mental health day. It’s 5pm and I haven’t had my morning meds… (don’t worry, I’m about to). Those are the days I know are bad. Now some might say they’re bad BECAUSE I’ve not had my meds…. could be… but this has been ongoing for the last few days. Medication won’t actually make me feel any better than I do right now, because even if I do have a need for medication, the problem is life…. lack of support, so much loss and pain, and just being weary of life. No pill will change my circumstances and all the shit that’s happened to me. And there’s been a lot of shit. I don’t know how I’m still here. I need something that will make me forget all the bad things, or remember all the good things….. I need more good things to happen…. I need more people to be the sorts of people I need in my life…. I need them to be kinder, gentler, warmer…. consistent. I need to be understood. I don’t want people being super positive to me or saying we all feel that way sometimes – fuck off. I know you don’t know what to say to me but you’re making me feel worse and more misunderstood and alone. No more of the ‘What you need to do is blah blah blah’…. no….. what YOU need to do is shut the fuck up and listen to what I’m saying and acknowledge how I’m feeling – comfort and support me, without advising me or comparing my suffering to yours or anyone else’s.


I’m always being told I need professional support – sustained support from secondary mental health services. Other people with lesser demons than mine seem to have that support. Why can’t I? Being denied that help communicates to me that they wouldn’t give a fuck if I did end it. They’re supposed to be there to help people. What a shit job to take, whereby you just sit back and let someone end their life… turning your back on them as a lost cause…. how the fuck do they sleep at night?


Guess I’ll have to pay over £300 to see a psychiatrist for an assessment then, to get a diagnosis in order to get the help I need, and then I’ll have to go private to be treated for it – whilst other people with the same illness get given the help for free…… I have to pay other people to keep me alive…… what fucking incentive is that? We should be given the money to stay alive. All these people who’ll have to do that – they’ll recover from the depths of their illness and have no fucking money left, which will cause life problems and worsening of their illness. It’s ridiculous. WHY SHOULD I HAVE TO PAY TO STAY ALIVE?!! I’m already giving enough effort and paying the price just staying alive for the sake of others…. why do I also have to pay someone else money just so I don’t die?! This country is fucked up. And I’m always the one left crawling on the floor, BEGGING for help. It’s not fucking right. It makes me more suicidal.


I’ve had enough. There’s no point to this post. I’m just sick of the chaos. Today was a very bad day. At least I see the doctor this weekend. That’s something. I guess.




Understanding Suicide.

Suicide Understanding



I had wanted to get this post finished and published on Monday, as it was World Suicide Prevention Day… but in a way I’m glad I failed to meet that deadline, as why should there be just one day to ‘prevent suicide’ or to talk about suicide? Awareness days are all well and good, but I’d prefer it if we were more open all the time, about our struggles. We can help each other feel less alone, and perhaps give each other hope. We don’t need one day to do that. People weren’t just considering suicide or acting on those thoughts on Monday… every day people are contemplating ending it all. Right now people are paying serious thought to their place in existence… they need us to keep the conversation going today, tomorrow and every tomorrow after it. If people only care for one day, and can’t keep going day after day, how can we expect people to keep living day after day, when they’re in such turmoil and distress? We cannot expect people to keep going if the support and understanding doesn’t also keep going. So here’s what I wanted to say about suicide…. it’s rather long, as I don’t speak about it often… goes without saying, be careful reading it, due to the subject matter……




I don’t have all the facts and figures on suicide, like many others put out there on World Suicide Prevention Day. All I have is an insight into the thoughts and feelings that would lead someone to feel that desperate as to choose to end their life. Until now I have never attempted to take my own life. I have considered it – sometimes just in passing as I walk past something that could be ‘a means’… sometimes more thought out… actually putting myself in the situation where I could make that decision. 6th December last year was the first time I really couldn’t see me being able to carry on, and it was the first time I phoned the Samaritans. I didn’t know what to expect but there was a gentle, caring sounding woman on the other end of the phone, who helped me through that desperate night. And the next day I shared with my family how bad things were. That was a low point in my life and I really couldn’t bear living anymore. There have been these moments I’ve seriously considered suicide. But until now at least, I have chosen the endless painful torment that is life.


But in more recent times my mind has become so much darker and more desperate, that it has sought comfort in the notion of death. Suicide plagues my thoughts. Every day lately I consider the way I could do it. I think what would be the quickest way… the most certain way… the least distressing or inconvenient for other people. You see, I’m still at that point where I can think of the people who would find me. When you reach that point where you choose death, there really is no room left for anything else. The mind and soul have been swamped by darkness and decayed hope. I’ve never been there, but I have heard from people who have, and I know enough to know that if I don’t get help soon, I will be faced with that reality myself. I’m close enough to it, to know that it takes over the mind to the point that not much else can fit in.


I know, because although I am thinking about the people who would have to witness it or find me, and I wouldn’t want to traumatise them, I also know that the pain I’m enduring is too strong and too much to bear, and in the end that will trump everything else. There will come a time when I put myself first and everything else will go out the window.


People think of suicide as a selfish act. I want to say a couple of things on this – yes…. I can understand the argument that it is selfish, and if that is the case then I can also understand why people still make that choice. I myself have been staying alive for my family now for the last few years. They are the only thing keeping me going right now. I am putting their feelings ahead of my own need to be free of this pain. I have had selfish people destroy my life and then claim I was selfish for being upset about it. All my life my needs and my wishes have come second (not to family though). So much so that I think of myself as ‘selfish’ whenever I take some time for myself and focus on self-care, or when I’m not there for my friends or family. When your self-worth is that low because you’ve had to stuff your needs down all your life, and then when it all becomes too much to bear inside, and you choose to put your needs first and end your suffering, people call you ‘selfish’… that is wrong. You have no idea what that person has gone through, and how very much the opposite to selfish they have been, to  have held on so long, for you. I understand that people will always view suicide as ‘selfish’. In some ways I could even agree that it is. That is not to say people are bad for opting for it. It is not to say they shouldn’t be allowed to make that choice for themselves. And it’s not to say it is EVER done with a selfish intent. Which brings me to my second point…


Suicide, whilst perceived by others as ‘selfish’ is often viewed by the person themselves as a selfless act. Many people who reach such a crisis point as to want to end their own lives, very often feel like a burden to those around them. They feel like a terrible person… a nuisance. Some feel invisible and don’t think anyone would notice or care if they died. But some actively think that others will be better off without them. It might not make sense to a calm, positive and rational mind – you might say ‘there is ALWAYS someone who cares about you’… but you don’t know other people’s circumstances. You may think that someone has a loving family, a network of friends, a happy relationship… and those people themselves may think that they communicate their love, care, appreciation and support – but it doesn’t mean it is being received by the person in crisis.


For instance, in the last few months I’ve had to cope basically on my own. None of my friends would know that the other friends weren’t there for me either, and that I’ve had to cope alone. I sometimes get messages saying ‘You know I’m here for you’… as if it’s a given. But sometimes when in crisis, everything goes out the window. If people think ‘Well they know how I feel about them… they know I care… it goes without saying’ and therefore don’t communicate it to us, we feel as though we’re totally alone and uncared for. Just telling each other what we mean to one another may be the thing that saves someone from suicide. You can’t expect people to just know how you feel about them.


Even if people DO feel loved and appreciated, sometimes it’s still not enough to save someone from the demons in their mind. Sometimes love isn’t enough. To live with a constant enemy inside you, ripping your soul apart from the inside, every single day, it’s exhausting, and eventually everyone reaches their limit. If they don’t have the right support, which is quite common nowadays in this country, and there’s nowhere to turn, some will choose to take matters into their own hands. It doesn’t mean they don’t love you. I think that’s what many people feel when a loved one ‘chooses death over’ them. Unless you know the endless torment of mental illness, you’ll never know how someone could choose to end it. It is not personal. It’s not about you. It’s something deeper and more complex than you could imagine…. an inner demon that’s taken control of the wheel. Someone could have every good reason to live and still want to die, because they are haunted by this sickness of the mind that robs them of all light and hope.


And one last point on the idea of ‘selfishness’ and suicide. I cannot count how many times I have seen comments on local news stories, where roads have been closed due to ‘an incident’, as in someone contemplating suicide… and these comments are always the same…. of ‘inconvenience’  … it’s the same with trains, when someone has ended their life on the tracks, and people are blurting it straight out about how selfish it was, and how they’re going to be late for XYZ, or they’ll miss the football, or whatever… my message to those sorts of people is this… I understand your frustration. Perhaps XYZ was important to you. Perhaps you frequently encounter this problem and you’ve had enough of it. But no matter what your annoyance is, be thankful that you get to go home to your loved ones. Be thankful that you have just had enough of being held up by people on the tracks. Those people on the tracks had enough of life, and ended it. They won’t be returning home to their loved ones… those loved ones will be grieving tonight, and for the rest of their lives. Be grateful that you don’t understand the desperation and torment that leads someone to end their life.


It shocks me when I see those sorts of comments or hear them from people. You always hear the ‘Why don’t they just go off somewhere private and do it quietly?’ thing, which shows the utter heartlessness of people, and makes me question the goodness of humanity. But I understand these are people never touched by suicide or mental illness. They would be horrified to learn it was a friend or family member who ‘inconvenienced’ them by ending their life. But because it’s a stranger they think it’s okay to be callous about their life. Some people will go off and die quietly, as you wish them to, others will see an opportunity and take any means possible to be gone. I know you won’t like this, but some people actually want to be saved. They want to be stopped. They feel suicidal but they really don’t want to die, and they’re scared that it will happen.


I have had times when I’d fantasise about a particular way of doing it, and a great part of that fantasy was people trying to stop me and help me. I wanted to know my life was worth saving. I wanted to get the help I need. It’s not about getting attention. It’s reaching a crisis point and not knowing where to turn or what to do. It’s needing more help than is available to you. It’s needing to feel you’re worth saving. Being protected and rescued. To have someone hear and see your pain, and take it seriously and save you from yourself.


Suicide is a tragedy. And people sit at home on their computer, or on their phone, writing about the inconvenience of ‘jumpers’. How it disrupts their lives. No humanity. No compassion. Just pure selfishness. That is the true face of ‘selfish’. Not the person in such distress they cannot live anymore, but the people who do not know that pain and suffering and whinge about being late. Selfishness is people making someone feel so bad about themselves or so alone, that they no longer want to live in this world and see suicide as their only option. And people calling it the ‘easy way out’ … ‘the coward’s way out’… when they don’t know what they’re talking about. There is nothing ‘easy’ about choosing to take your own life. It takes a lot of ‘resilience’ and being worn down by life to reach that point. It takes a heck of a lot of inner conflict, backwards and forwards between just wanting peace, but not wanting to hurt anyone else. Nobody makes that choice easily. And even people who don’t want to live life anymore will feel scared of dying.


I don’t promote suicide. I simply say that I understand it and I am against people attacking this highly taboo subject, forcing more people into silent suffering. I want people to know that I understand the agony that leads to those thoughts and those places, because I’ve been at least three quarters of the way there, and that’s enough to know the hell you’d be in, to make that final decision. It’s a decision I wish people didn’t make. I wish they didn’t have to make it. I wish that life could be kinder to those people and they could defeat their demons, in life. I want people to hold on and fight against this illness that’s telling them to leave this life. Too many good souls are lost because of suicide… because of the conditions that lead to suicide…


Suicide is very often the final symptom of a mental illness. Just as death is the final symptom of a terminal cancer. I know you might argue that point, saying that cancer robs a person of their life, whereas suicide is a person throwing their life away. But the reality is that those who reach that point of suicide most likely feel their illness has robbed them of their life. Suicidal thoughts and self-harm can be symptoms of many mental illnesses. I know matters of the mind are harder to understand than physical illnesses, but they’re no different. Mental illnesses have symptoms, which are not the fault of the one suffering them. We would trade lives with someone in a heartbeat, if it meant having hope and a life worth living. I would give anything to not be experiencing sickening paranoia, isolation, abandonment, self-destructive urges, self-harm, splitting on people and the world, daily suicidal thoughts, hopelessness and flashbacks to every painful thing that’s ever happened. I would love to trust people. I would love my mind to be quiet for once. It is so jam-packed with the noises of memories, worries, made-up scenarios, paranoid thoughts, negative self-narrative, and the silent scream for me to just end it all. I have no room in my head for anything else. It’s already overcrowded. I want a bit of peace and quiet. Nobody chooses their symptoms, or their illness.


I take medication. I am still waiting to hear from the mental health services, just for the initial assessment! My world has shut down around me. I am isolated. Nobody knows the depth of my suffering. Suicidal feelings are hard for me to share with others – it’s pretty much the only symptom I don’t talk about in real life with people, for fear of their reactions. I don’t want to upset anyone, or alarm them. But I know I’m going to have to find the courage to discuss it at some point soon, and I just hope I have a calm, validating reaction when I do finally speak up. Silence around suicide is a big risk factor. A lot of the time people have no idea someone feels like ending their life, until they’re gone. They don’t see the warning signs. The signs are there. The world is just too busy and people are caught up in their own lives to notice them…


Signs of suicidality include:


  • Talking about / being preoccupied with death and suicide.
  • Increased self-harming behaviour.
  • Withdrawing / isolating.
  • Feeling trapped or hopeless.
  • Giving away possessions.
  • Being unable to concentrate / feeling restless.
  • Agitation / irritation.
  • Changes in personality / mood.
  • A calm / positive burst after continuous deep depression – this is often as the person is resolved to ending things… it brings them peace to know an end is near.
  • Engaging more in risky behaviours.
  • Changes in sleeping / eating habits.
  • Talk of feeling like a burden.
  • Negative view of self / life / the world.
  • Saying goodbye to people / making confessions.


I think the biggest signs for people ought to be that the person talks and writes about death and suicide more. I think there’s this myth that if it’s being talked about it’s not going to happen. This is wrong. I have talked about ending it for the last eight months or so. Admittedly I haven’t done anything yet. But what concerns me is the silence on the other end. People could see me talking about wanting to die, and had nothing to say to me. My take on that is that they don’t honestly believe I will do something. But me talking about it  was me reaching out for help, so that I wouldn’t do it. The trouble is eventually you stop talking about it. You go silent. And then if you were to follow it through, those same people who heard you talk about it for months would bleat out the same line – ‘Why didn’t she say anything?’ … ‘I had no idea she felt that bad’. The warning signs are there. And talking about suicidal feelings has to be one of the most blindingly obvious signs that someone is considering ending their life. Yet it’s often ignored as a ‘threat’ or ‘attention-seeking’. People talking about suicide is your chance to save them from it. So please don’t ignore someone as ‘crying wolf’ if they say they don’t want to live anymore. One day you’ll regret ignoring this sign.


Personally, my self-harm has got worse. I have withdrawn from everyone and I’m isolating myself. I feel trapped and worthless… completely hopeless. I don’t see a future for me. My concentration isn’t that great right now. It’s taken me a long time to write this post. I wanted it posted yesterday as well, but I had awful anxiety yesterday which only felt worse when writing this. I always feel like a burden. There’s not much good left that I see in me, life or the world and the people in it. And I am in the process of writing / saying things for people to know when I’m not here anymore. I’ve set it as my goal to stay alive long enough to document certain things, and to tell people the truth about my feelings and events. In the last few months I actually wrote ‘a note’. It didn’t become anything. I don’t know where it’s gone or what I said in it. But I’ve definitely gone to some extremely dark places this year. Right now I’m advised to take it minute by minute, so that’s what I intend to do. Everything feels broken and ruined beyond repair. But I have to just limp on and not worry about the big picture at the moment. I have to focus on me and getting through each minute. But I do so, with very heavy and intrusive thoughts of suicide.


But you wouldn’t think it to look at me. If you saw me I would be trying my hardest to wear a smile, even if that smile doesn’t touch my eyes I’ll be trying my hardest to force it to.


The whole thing with mental illness and suicide, is you never know when you’re standing next to someone or talking to someone, who wishes they were dead, or who has plans this evening to end their life. Suicide is a silent killer, often known about too late. We need to be able to speak out about how we’re feeling, and we need to have it taken seriously. If we’re speaking out about wanting to end our own lives, we’re scared, and we want to feel safe, loved and supported. It’s not easy to talk about suicide, so if we do it, please listen.



Whenever I used to be asked about suicidal thoughts by mental health professionals, I would say that I thought about it, but would never do anything about it. This was because I was afraid of their reaction. I was afraid of the doors it might open (or close). I was worried it would result in lectures, or even abandonment. The truth is I never felt completely safe from the possibility of actually doing something. And as time has gone on I have become less certain of what I’m capable of. After self-harming at therapy last year, which is something I never thought would’ve happened – I never thought I’d have been caught self-harming – I now don’t know what the limits are for me. I can’t honestly say that I wouldn’t do something. Would I admit this to a mental health professional? I don’t really know. Because I have a fear of the unknown. And I don’t know what lies beyond honesty about suicidal intent.


I feel certain at this point that it’s the direction my life is heading in. I see no future. I see no light or hope.


But let me clear something else up. I don’t want to die. I want to not want to die. I want a reason to live. I want a life. I want that life to bring me happiness, make me feel loved and important. I want people to treat me well. I want to matter. I want life to give me a break. I want to be able to cope with the world. I want more joy and love. I want to forget my past and dream of a future, that isn’t suicide. I don’t want to end my life. I want to end my pain.


This is the thing about suicide. Most people just want the pain to stop. They want the inner turmoil to mute. They want to heal. They want to kill the demon they carry with them everywhere they go. They want to be free of what weighs them down. This is how I feel. If life was different… better… I’d want to be a part of it. But at this point in time, the pull of ‘peace’ is greater than the pull of ‘life’. I don’t want to die. I want life to be better. I want to erase my memories. I want to not live in emotional pain every day. But when you are at this point, you feel there is nothing you can do to change the way your life is. You can’t make people treat you the way you wish they did. You can’t turn back time. You can’t forget everything you’ve been through. You can’t create your own breaks in life. You can’t create joy and love by yourself. You can’t make yourself matter to other people. You feel powerless. You can’t change your circumstances. But you can make a choice as to whether to live with those circumstances. And unfortunately that is why many people choose suicide. They see no other option.


People speak of the fear of being sectioned, for admitting suicidal ideation.  I would fear this too, having never been sectioned. In some ways a part of me would welcome it. A great part of me right now wants to be kept safe from myself. But the fear of the unknown doesn’t give me that choice. So I have to keep pushing on, in the hope that my regard for my family’s feelings will overpower the overpowering wish to make everything stop. But nothing feels certain anymore. It’s no longer a given that I won’t do anything. And that scares me. This year has seen the worst decline in my mental health I’ve ever known. I’m no longer who I once was. The self-destructive part of me is running the show now, and I’m afraid of my own mind.


People don’t just wake up one morning and think ‘Hey, I’ll kill myself’ for no reason. It happens slowly… days, weeks, months, years of endless sadness, pain and depression… until one day it feels like the only option left.


Please don’t be so quick to judge suffering you couldn’t understand. There’s so much more going on underneath a person than you will ever know. Try to understand what someone has been through, before thinking of them as selfish or weak. Be there for them. Help them want to live again. Push for support for them. Don’t give up on them, as they’ve given up on themselves. And listen to them – allow them to talk to you about their suicidal feelings. Remain calm and caring. Validate how they feel and why they feel that way, but show your commitment to helping them continue with life. One suicide is one too many. It’s important we talk about our feelings. It’s more important that others listen.


If you’re feeling suicidal or struggling with your mental health then please try and seek help – I know it’s hard to come by now, but don’t suffer in silence. And give the Samaritans a call (or your national suicide helpline)… it might not fix everything, as the pain you feel cannot be cured overnight. But I hope they can give you the encouragement to see another day.


We’re in this together. You’re not alone in feeling the way you do. I understand how you feel. I’m going to keep trying, one minute at a time, and I hope that if I can do it, you can find the will to do it too. I know it’s hell and pure darkness, but all we can do is survive and pray the light will return in time. And I believe it will. I have to.


Take care of yourselves.