I know whilst I was in the looney bin recently that I uploaded some short posts here and there, but I had my notebook in with me and used it as my blog. So here are the few posts I wrote in there; starting from when I went in, and finishing on the day I came home. Some of them are pretty long… but I’m sure you’re all used to that with me anyway! Yeah just remember they are written back to front so I am still alive!
TUES 7TH SEPTEMBER 19:00
So my net is down and my phoneline has been cut off and now my mobile as well. Just as well we still have such things as pen and paper! It’s just as well that I get some of my benefits money tomorrow so I can sort them all out. That is, of course, if there is another tomorrow. Yep the suicidal feelings are back and I can’t take these severe low moods. I thought taking a break from blogging would make me force myself to do more in my days and give me less time to dwell on the huge urge I currently have to off myself.
Part of me want’s to go up to my little one’s stone and end my life there, with him. I feel awful to say that. How completely selfish and unnecessary of me. I also feel bad because I borrowed some money off my mum saying it was for sensible things like dinner and (not so sensible) cigarettes. Really, I bought blues. 10mg Diazepam. Valium. Whatever name you want to call them. I bought 15 of them and took seven of them over the course of last night, then as soon as I got up today I called him for another 15. So now I have 23 of the street bought ones to accompany my tiny prescribed dose tonight. I know they don’t kill you, in fact I can’t find one report anywhere that says diazepam was the main cause of someone’s death. It’s a break that I need. A break from myself.
I think I feel even worse because I felt as though my social worker (she called earlier) and when she was speaking there was just something in her tone that made me think that she no longer wants to work with me or has given up. I got angry because it takes me so long to build up a new therapeutic relationship with someone and my head felt crazy and I thought she was the right person to turn to but now there is talk of me having a CPN again and I don’t think I want that.
It really doesn’t matter anyway because I don’t intend on being here tomorrow. I’ve truly had enough. I cannot express how much of a failure I am and I just can’t go on feeling this way any longer. I don’t want to do it at home purely on the off chance that someone sees me or something like that. Then again I don’t suppose anyone would go into panic mode for at least a week of not hearing from me as they know how much of an unsociable bastard I am. Then I go back to thinking about doing it at the cemetery but then I wouldn’t want some grieving individual, visiting their loved one, and then finding my disgusting body. No I couldn’t do it to someone… and then I have to do it, so I’m stuck right now.
The final choice is taking as much medication as I can get my hands on and driving to the middle of nowhere, leave the car and go hide in some woodland and do it there. I’m sure I’d find somewhere that felt like the ‘right’ place to do it. So the plan at the moment is to take three blues (leaving myself 20) so I can get a little sleep and then tomorrow: 20x10mg diazepam, 8 sominex/promethazine, and a strip of 200mg quetiapine that I accidentally got more of than I needed a few weeks back. So that’s another 2800mg of seroquel/quetiapine/whatever we’re calling it at the moment. Definitely not a suicide attempt despite the suicidal feelings, just a VERY long sleep and break needed from life. The one good thing that I have noticed is that the over the counter sominex are also an anti-emetic so I shouldn’t waste any of the tablets by throwing up.
Surely you can’t make a proper plan anyway without including all the tiny details. And yet whilst it’s not a suicide plan as such I find myself wanting to write here that if anyone ever reads this then they need to know these aren’t just fleeting thoughts that I can hit the ‘switch off’ button on. God how I wish I could. The only one place I want to be is Heaven, in the place where I know my baby is, to join him and watch down over you all and smiling the biggest smile you would have ever seen ‘cos my baby would be safe in my arms, just where he should be. I might not have been able to give him love on Earth but I sure as hell can do it in Heaven. Thinking about being with him makes me feel warm inside and it’s not that I feel cold when I think of the people I do have here on Earth. Don’t get me wrong I love my parents so so much, and my brother, and my Grandma and cousins and aunts and uncles and my best friend and my two ‘adopted’ nephews. Of course I’d miss them all. I love every single one of them in their own way and I know everyone mentioned loves me back in their own way. Sorry people but on further thought I think my two little dogs have to be up there near the top of lists of loves! It is them really who keep me alive more than anyone or anything else.
Maybe I’m greedy or selfish but all of that love I’ve just mentioned, even when combined, still doesn’t match the love I feel for my little angel son. Maybe that’s the one way my parents might understand – the love they have for me, the way a parent says they would die for their kids – but in reality can I cause them so much pain? I’ve been writing about this same stuff for almost two years now and still haven’t came to the correct answer for me.
When that little life is so cruelly snatched away from someone, instinct tells you that you need someone to blame, your body and mind tell you that something is very wrong indeed, and there is just this huge empty void left in that place that makes you feel warm, happy and content. I need to fill that void and no job or hobby or even another baby will fill that hole. Yes, it was slightly easier when I was with the ex; having the distraction of the wedding and a new house did help life partly mould itself into some sort of shape that I could cope with. People had hope. No, I will rephrase that. *I* had hope. People will still say there is hope now, but that’s their hope not mine. I don’t have any. They cling to another hope that I will find some hope of my own.
To those who know me: Shit, what do I do if this overdose thing actually works? I’d need to put the dogs in another room, I couldn’t let them see me die. I know this is going to hurt people but I’m so so sorry, it’s the only cloud with the silver lining that I can find. Look at it like this, I live so you don’t have to hurt. Living to me is just existing until I reach an acceptable age to off myself. All I can say is make sure I am cremated. I want you to have some of my ashes if that’s what you would like. I’d like some to be buried in next to the little one and some sprinkled over both our resting places. Maybe you could carry a tiny bottle’s worth in your bag and when you find somewhere one day that makes you think I would love it then just sprinkle me right there, right then. You will know when it’s right.
Oh and if possible could you put a little plaque next to the little one’s stone with “mother and son together again” written on it.
Shit this really is starting to sound like I’m thinking of every eventuality, this was meant to be a fill in blog post and it’s been 8 notebook pages so far! I think I will be writing them all one at a time! I’m just trying to explain but maybe I’m trying to explain the unexplainable. I’m trying to paint the picture of my life from my eyes, of inside my head as it’s the only place I can come to a definite conclusion.
Last year when I was in the looney bin I made a promise to my parents that I would never commit suicide and put them through the same pain that I feel. How can I say that I want to die to be in another land with my son and somehow use that line of ‘a mother’s love’ to justify it all? But my parents are hopeful people – the are the optimists and I am the pessimist – but you know that’s how my life has taught me to be. People ask me about things that could happen in the future – ‘don’t you want to meet a nice man? maybe have that little cottage with it’s little garden that you dream of? maybe one day you will be well enough to complete one of these courses that you start and then drop out of?’
It’s all about their hope, everyone else’s, but not mine.
And yes, I know people will say shit like ‘oh she was just turning 30, what a waste of a young life, blah de blah’ but you know something, in these 30 years I feel as though I have lived so many more years than what I have. Oh wait, another person’s question – ‘she needed a distraction, don’t you think?’ – after all, distraction is the key and all that jazz.
Black and white thinking. All or nothing. Extremes.
Pretending to be happy whilst constantly thinking about dying. Voices running through my head every second which I’m awake, reminding me of my failure status. My one and only dream would be to one day find a miracle lady who would surrogate for me and give me what I just can’t give myself. When I was pregnant my parents brought down a pine swinging crib, it was mine when I was a baby and still in perfect condition. It sat there all ready for my little one, everything was so perfect. Now my only ‘real’ hope is that one day I will meet a surrogate who can bring some of my dreams to life. I watched a program on surrogacy recently and one of the women even used her own egg’s because she was so desperate to give this couple a baby of their own. Would that happen for me one day?
How will I know if I don’t stick around? I guess I won’t. But what I do know is this: if I *do* go, then I’ve gone with a smile on my face.
Bye for now all xxx
P.S. I did (at some point after writing this) end up taking all of the pills and ending up in hospital.
(Next entry will be the one I wrote on Sunday 11th September around 3pm in the hospital – I’ll write it up later)