Tag Archives: grieving

19:34 – Here comes a RANT

16 Nov

As the title says – here comes a rant…

So as most of you already know I don’t get on very well with CPN#2 but I have tried to attend some of my appointments with her mainly because I thought if I completely disengaged then I might end up being discharged from the community mental health team (CMHT). I have also tried to go to some of them so that it would bridge the gap whilst waiting to start seeing the psychologist again. I haven’t seen her since February 2012 when she went off on maternity leave. I did try to work with her at various points throughout 2010 but by the end of the year had become so unstable I was sectioned under the mental health act. When we got about half way through 2011 I tried to work with her again but was still in and out of the psych hospital so we never really got to do more than a few sessions here and there before I’d end up back in hospital again.

Towards the end of 2011 the psychologist came to see me during one of my many hospital admissions and told me that she was five months pregnant. The reason why I was ending up in hospital so much was because I was constantly making attempts at ending my life because all I wanted was to be in Heaven with my baby boy. So I sat that day and listened to her and then told her that I thought I would find it too hard to work with her whilst watching her bump grow bigger especially as she was due around the same time as my little boy’s anniversary. She completely understood and other than at one CPA meeting in February 2012 I had no more sessions with her.

So, the psychologist was due to return to work in February/March time of this year. In May I got a letter from her saying that I was on her waiting list and she would write to me again when she was able to restart psychology sessions with me. CPN#2 told me a month or so ago that I was very near the top of the list at last and should get an appointment to start seeing the psychologist again very soon. In a way a lot of things have been resting on these sessions starting back – new psychiatrist has run out of medications to try with me and wants me to consider ECT – but first he wants psychological input and to see if working on the Compassion Focused Therapy (Compassionate Mind and Mindfulness) would help to improve my mood and anxiety levels. Lovely GP is hanging on to see if psychology will help me. Lovely support worker has also done her best to keep me going and reminding me it won’t be long ’til I can do some proper psychological therapy again. And CPN#2 told me only a matter of weeks ago that she really thinks I’m in a better frame of mind now to do therapy.

(Note: CPN#2 also recently informed me that she thinks my persistently low moods were due to several factors but the one worth mentioning is that she deliberately said that she thought my infertility issues and so many people around me being pregnant/having babies was definitely worsening my mood)

So this morning I get up to discover a letter in the post from Clinical Psychology. It starts off to say “you are now at the top of the waiting list and I will be able to offer you sessions starting in January”… OK so a little longer than I’d expected but at last I had a start date! Then I carry on reading the letter… “I will only be able to offer you four sessions, two in January and two in February as I go on maternity leave in March 2014“.

Now here comes rant number 1.

Why… why the hell did CPN#2 not think to mention this to me whilst trying to keep me focused on staying stable “so I can work with the psychologist again”?? Why, when she herself sat and told me that she thinks having various people around me just now who are either pregnant or have small babies is having a negative impact on my mood because it keeps me thinking about my little boy all the time and about the fact that I have a variety of fertility issues of my own did she not tell me that the psychologist was pregnant again? Why let me find out on a fucking letter rather than just telling me? CPN#2 knows all to well that the reason I stopped seeing the psychologist was because in her last few months of pregnancy and with a big fucking bump it messed with my head too much and that’s why I stopped seeing her! So if psychologist is due in March then she is around a similar point in her pregnancy as my cousin who is also due in March and my cousin has just recently had her 20 week scan and has an obvious bump now. So it’s not like CPN#2 wouldn’t have known, I’m quite sure she has known for a couple of months yet has carried on telling me how important it is for me to stay stable so I can resume these psychology sessions. And also she knows fine well that my little one’s anniversary is in February so at this time of year as we go through the Winter months my head is always more messed up than usual. So she wants me to attend psychology for a whole four sessions with a huge pregnant bump staring back at me? Seriously… wtf!

The next part of the letter goes on to say: “I understand that working with me towards the end of my pregnancy may be difficult for you so if you would prefer not to have the four sessions I can offer you then you can wait until a new psychologist is appointed once I begin my maternity leave in March 2014”. Well at least she was decent enough to acknowledge and remember how hard it was for me to see her the last time she was pregnant but I have been waiting and to a certain degree hanging on for these psychology sessions since May so if I say to her that yes, I think I will find it too hard to work with her and want to wait and work with whatever new psychologist they appoint that means I’m going to have to wait until March. Maybe April by the time the new one gets his/her caseload sorted out. So that’s another four or five months to carry on waiting when I’ve already been waiting for a very long six months. Plus it means working with someone new and let’s face it I’m not particularly good at that. I’m just so frustrated that all I’ve heard for the past few months from CPN#2, from new psychiatrist, from lovely GP and lovely support worker is to “hang in there, the psychology might help, you’re nearly at the top of the list” and for what? I reach the top and am offered four sessions… even if she wasn’t pregnant what the hell do they think I’ll achieve in four sessions?!

Don’t get me wrong, I know I have no say over when anyone chooses to have a child and as well as being a psychologist she is just a normal woman living her life and creating her family. I have no issues with that. I am just so so pissed off that people clearly knew but didn’t tell me. I’m so pissed off that after all this waiting I finally get that letter to say I’m at the top of the list and then have to sit and battle with myself over what I should do now. Should I say yes and take the four sessions then move over to whoever takes over her post whilst she’s on maternity leave or should I wait a few months longer and spare myself the heartache of sitting watching this bump growing whilst at the very same time trying to deal with another painful anniversary? If I do go to see her will it mess with my head again? Will I start getting crazy thoughts like I did the last time? Would I be able to cope with it better now?

Rant number two…. I shouldn’t have to be asking myself all of these questions! Someone should have been decent enough to have said to me a month or two months ago – “you are getting close to the top of the list but the psychologist is actually pregnant again and will be going on maternity leave in March, would you prefer to stay on her list and have a few short sessions or wait until a new psychologist fills her post?” Why the fuck was it too hard for someone to just say that? Argh!

And sorry, but a bit more ranting… I had sort of decided that as CPN#2 is so fucking useless and close to impossible to work with, that when I did start seeing the psychologist again I would stop seeing CPN#2. I am getting nowhere with the woman and every session is structured in her way or no way. So now if I have to wait til March/April time to see whoever the new psychologist will be that means months and months of having to carry on seeing CPN#2 until then. And I can see where that will head. I will either make up excuses as to why I can’t attend appointments or just completely disengage with her. And all of this at the hardest time of year for me when I need support more than any other time of the year. I’m frustrated and angry that she got my hopes up that it was close to my psychology sessions resuming, that she sat and spoke to me about how it “might be best for me to just try and stay away from people who are pregnant or who have babies over these difficult months” and the whole time the fucking psychologist is pregnant!

I could go on and on. Maybe you will read this and think I need to “get over it” or maybe you’ll understand where I’m coming from. Maybe nobody really understands how hard it is to see pregnant ladies and babies unless you have lost one yourself. I know I can’t stop it from happening and I have no choice to see it from afar, but I don’t need it up close and in my face, I need to distance myself a bit from it, especially around the weeks leading up to little one’s anniversary… as we’ve seen in the past it can stress me out that much I can end up in full psychosis or full of delusions about my baby needing me so I must end my life to be with him. It can lead to me trying to take my own life so that I can be wherever he is. So yeah, you could say that it can have a pretty significant impact on me, my life and my mental health.

I just wish someone had told me and prepared me a little bit. Now I don’t know what the hell to do for the best. I don’t want to end up suicidal to the point of trying to make active attempts to end my life… I don’t want to end up with delusions… I don’t want to end up in the bin… why did they have to make something so hard that could have been dealt with so easily by just casually mentioning it to me a couple of months ago when I wasn’t ‘at the top of the list’ so I could have prepared myself for waiting a bit longer to see the new psychologist. Why keep me going, keep telling me I’m nearly at the top, just hang on a little bit longer and then hit me with it in a letter. Part of me thinks CPN#2 did it deliberately because I know she knows I don’t like her and she’d probably be quite happy to see me properly messed up again.

Maybe I should just get back in touch with new psychiatrist and say fuck it, let’s do this ECT shit… it can’t be any worse than how I feel when I leave my appointments with CPN#2… it certainly can’t be any less productive as the sessions with her are so unproductive already. Maybe zapping my brain is what I need to stop me reacting so strongly when I do have to be around babies and pregnant people or maybe six years on I’m still in so much pain and still grieving so badly that nothing at all will help other than hanging onto the thought that if it all gets too much I can just go and end it all and get to be with my little angel again… at least I do know that option will always be there…

OK, I think I’ve vented enough now so…

/End of rant.

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22:27 – What I wish I could say to my friends & family

15 Nov

This is one of the posts I started writing a few days ago when I was having a bit of an emotional moment thinking about my little boy, missing him so badly, my heart just feeling completely broken. I came across this article which was written back in July by a woman named Samantha Hayward who also lost a baby, a little girl named Ella. The full article is here: http://www.mamamia.com.au/parenting/ten-points-i-wish-every-person-knew-about-the-death-of-a-child/ but the part of the article that really resonated with me was the ’10 things she wishes every person knew about the death of a child’ that she wrote about (well all of them apart from the ones regarding her living children as obviously that doesn’t apply in my case).

Here are some of the points she wrote and I wish so much I could be writing this as a letter or email and sending it to my nearest and dearest rather than writing them here on my blog. Why can’t I send it to those closest to me? I really don’t know. Fear of something, but I can’t put my finger on what…

Anyway – here are some of the things I wish I could say taken from Samantha’s article:

Let’s start with her first paragraph:

“The soul destroying agony of your child dying is only truly known and understood by those who have endured it. Four years on, (six for me) I still glance down at my daughters grave in disbelief. Visiting my child’s grave is surreal. It’s almost like I’ve vacated my body and I’m watching someone I don’t know standing there putting flowers down.

Is this really my life ?”

(I wonder that a lot as well – this is my little angel’s headstone) 😦

My little angel's headstone

My little angel’s headstone

 

1. Four years on I get up every day with the exact same sadness I had the day Ella died.The only difference is I’m more skilled at hiding it and I’m much more used to the agony of my broken heart. The shock has somewhat lessened, but I do still find myself thinking I can’t believe this happened. I thought that only happened to other people. You asked how I was in the beginning yet you stopped, why? Where did you get the information on what week or month was good to stop asking?

Note: This is so completely true. In my case, six years (almost seven) I get up each day with the exact same sadness as when my little boy went to Heaven. But in a way I think I will always feel this way and I sort of hope that I always do, no matter how painful it may be. I would hate to think that there will ever be a day that could pass where I don’t think about my precious little prince. Maybe that’s why the grieving process takes so long, because we are terrified if we allow ourselves to fully grieve that somehow we will forget our angels and that thought is scarier than the thought of spending the rest of my life grieving for him. But the line of being ‘more skilled at hiding it’ – she hit the nail on the head there. That’s all that does happen, you hide your pain better (from others) but learn somehow to keep it to yourself. Why? Keep on reading and you’ll find out. People change towards you when you lose a baby/child in ways you would never believe.

2. Please don’t tell me that all you want is for me to be happy again. Nobody wants that more than I do, but it’s something that can only be achieved with time. On top of that, I have to find a new happiness. The happiness I once felt, that carefree feeling, will never return in its entirety. It also helps to have the patience and understanding from loved ones.

Note: I have completely lost the ability to feel happiness at the moment. When I have a brief moment of feeling happy I’m instantly hit with the guilt train in my own head. How dare I be happy when my little boy is not here?! It may be almost seven years but I’m still trying to walk the road to finding a level of happiness that I can live with, without having the guilt for feeling happy added in. I hope one day that time will come, but right now I’m still not there yet. I wish my friends and family could somehow understand that.

3. Please don’t say ‘I want the old Sam back!’ Or, I can see the old Sam coming back! Sam’s not coming back. This is who I am now. If you only knew the horror I witnessed and endured you would know it’s not humanly possible for me to ever be the same person again. Losing a child changes who you are. I’ve been told my eyes look haunted.

It’s a strange thing for someone to tell a grieving mother, but it’s true – I am haunted. My views on the world have changed, things that were once important are not now and vice versa. I feel as though you’re telling me two things here. Firstly you don’t like the person I am and, secondly if the old Sam’s not coming back I’m out of here. By the way there is nobody that misses the “old Sam” more than me!!! I’m mourning two deaths here; my daughter’s and my former self.

Note: I have lost count of the amount of times people have said they want the old me back or think they see the ‘old me’ coming back… the ‘old me’ will never come back… I’m a completely new person because of my experiences. If you think it’s hard for you seeing me as a different person now take a moment to think how hard it is for me. This is my life now, this is my reality. I can’t just switch it on and off, it’s here permanently, 24/7, always. And I need to live this life… forever.

4. If you chose to acknowledge my daughter’s birthday or the anniversary of her death on the first year, it’s terribly gut wrenching when you didn’t bother to acknowledge the second or third or fourth. Do you think any subsequent birthday or anniversary is not as sad for me? It also says to me in very big neon lights that you’ve moved on and forgotten about my daughter.

Note: On the first year after losing my little boy my fiancé at the time, my little mans Daddy gave me a Mother’s Day card from my angel. Yes it made me cry but it also meant so much to me. The second year he did the same. I also got him a Father’s Day card the first two years. Then on the third year our relationship was seriously rocky and it wasn’t long til we split up for good but during that rocky period I still got a Father’s Day card for him and posted it through his door. Not with my name on it anywhere, just our little angel’s. That year he phoned me angrily and told me not to bother ever getting him a card again and it was time for me to “get over it”. It broke my heart hearing those words. I could deal with him not wanting me any more, I could just about accept he’d cheated on me and our relationship was over, but to say he never wanted to be acknowledged again as our baby’s father – that hurt right to my core. Even now when he makes contact with me at the start of every February to ask if I want to go with him to the cemetery on the little man’s anniversary I think of that moment and feel utter hatred towards him. I’ll never forget the day he said those words to me and will probably always hate him for saying them. It hurts a lot that nobody gets me a Mother’s Day card any more. I might not have my angel here but I was still a Mummy 😥

5. I did notice. To the friends and family that found the entire death and dealing with my sadness all too hard and held secret events behind my back that were lied about, stopped inviting me to things I had always been included in and slowly ended our relationship thinking I didn’t notice.

I did notice. The only reason why I never said anything is because I’m not wasting my words on your shameful behaviour. I am thankful for something though – I didn’t waste any more time on people that were capable of such shallowness and cruelty. Please don’t fear. I would be the first one by your side if the same thing happened to you. That should give you some indication of how horrible it is.

Note: Yep… and they still do it now…

6. Grieving for a child lasts until you see them again. It’s a lifetime. If you’re wondering how long your friend or family member might be grieving for, the answer is forever. Don’t rush them, don’t trivialise their sadness, don’t make them feel guilty for being sad and when they talk to you, open your ears and listen, really listen to what they’re telling you. It’s possible you’ll learn something. Don’t be so cruel as to give up on them remember it’s not about you it’s about them.

I’ve been left repeatedly heart broken as friends that I truly loved and never thought would walk away from me tossed me into the ‘too hard’ basket or – more hurtfully – the crazy basket. Phone calls stopped, text messages stopped, comments on Facebook stopped and I get the same thing every time. “Sorry darling I’m just flat out”, “Let’s catch up soon” and “I miss you.” The list could keep going but I get it. I’m not the type of person either that is going to pursue a friendship I know the other person doesn’t want. Everyone has a conscience and thankfully I don’t have to live with theirs.

Note: I read this and just nod my head with a sad expression on my face and a lump in my throat… she’s right, this is the reality of it, I’ve lost a hell of a lot of friends since losing my precious baby… I know people who have the attitude of ‘they just don’t know what to say’ – and maybe if *I* had the strength to share this post with them then they would. I guess I’ve at least had the strength to share it with you guys… maybe one day I’ll try to get those in my ‘real life’ to try to understand as well.

Protected: 01:24 – Six years since you grew your wings

11 Feb

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13:03 – New Year’s Day & All Alone Again

1 Jan

So here we are, a new year has started and I wish so much that my very first ramblings in 2013 could start off sounding – positive/happy/stable – any of them would do.

But the reality is that I went to bed around 1am and left the room completely dark apart from one little candle flickering away next to my bed. Outside there were still fireworks going off and lots of drunk (but happy) sounding people all shouting happy new year to one another. I reached into my bedside drawer and got out a photograph of my little angel and using the light from the candle I gently stroked my fingers over his little face, his hand, his little mouth and I couldn’t fight the tears… then was crying so much I couldn’t see the photo any more so held it tight against my heart and cried with so many emotions going around and around inside me.

I woke up just before 7am this morning and as I opened my eyes there was the photo just lying on the pillow next to me and I couldn’t fight it or control it, the emotions overtook me again and I before I’d even had the chance to wake up properly I was sobbing my heart out again. And with every tear that rolled down my cheek there would be a horrible thought that accompanied it, the overwhelming sensation of being completely alone, knowing I was entering another day with no one around me, where I’d probably not see anyone or speak to anyone all day. It would just be silence, other than the noise in my head. And usually this is good, being left alone is what I spend so much time trying to achieve, but I just felt this completely unbearable deep sadness when I woke up this morning that this is my life… a 31 year old woman, single, mentally unstable, still unable to grieve properly for my angel despite it approaching six years, still feeling completely trapped by my own mind.

It all started getting too much, the really bad thoughts were whirling around and they were starting to scare me. So I got up and immediately got dressed and took the dogs for an early morning walk. I didn’t see one other person outside. Then again it was only around 8.30am. I came back home and put the TV on (for background noise if nothing else) and now all I feel is lots and lots of anxiety. I never want to see people, I do everything I can to shut people out the majority of the time, I ignore phonecalls and text messages and anyone who comes to my door. I want to hide away and rot in my own mess but for some reason being alone with my thoughts is really quite scary at the moment.

So yeah, 2013 isn’t exactly starting on a very happy note, but I don’t want these horrible thoughts in my head telling me to do bad things to myself. I’m really not too sure how today is going to pan out, I guess it depends on how much effort I put into fighting back.

Sorry for yet another depressed and self pitying post, I hoped my first post of 2013 could be one where I was happy and full of new year’s resolutions, but I am very much struggling to see anything positive about the year ahead at the moment. However I do hope that this will change and that I won’t have a repeat of last January where things went downhill so quickly that I had overdosed within the first week and ended up in the psych hospital by the middle of the month.

For the time being, all I can do is concentrate on getting through today, minute by minute and hour by hour trying to keep myself safe (from myself) and not let the bad thoughts win. But that is so much easier said than done. They grind me down until I believe everything they say and when you are ground right down to nothing it is so very very hard to do any kind of ‘fighting back’. So I guess I just ‘ride with it’ and try to control things to the best of my ability.

Ah fuck, here come the tears again. Where the hell did they come from??

OK, I think it’s time to stop writing now.

Before I go I just want to say Happy New Year to you all, and thank you for all the words of support and encouragement you gave me throughout 2012… I wonder what 2013 has in store for us all…

17:47 – Had a lovely night out with an ex, then disaster happened

7 Oct

Well yesterday was interesting. It started off like any normal day, I’d arranged to meet my Mum and we took the dogs for a long walk in the afternoon. I heard my phone beep and saw I had a new text message. It was from my ex that I met around 8 years ago when I was 22 coming on 23 and we were together for about 18 months. He lived for the last 6 months we were together in my parents house with me. I will refer to him as P.

P  treated me like a princess, but we both used to smoke stupid amounts of cannabis and when he moved in things became really frustrating. Neither of us were working properly, I was on benefits and he was doing odd jobs here and there for people. The more cannabis we smoked the more pressures there were for money and the more we began to argue. One day I just had enough, on New Year’s Eve of all days, I lost the plot with him over something really stupid and told him to pack his stuff and leave. We split up on 31st December 2005.

By this point my agoraphobia was really starting to kick in so he moved back to big scary city to his parents house and we lost contact with each other.

Around a year later I was with my angel baby’s Dad (my ex fiancé)  and I remember getting a text message completely out of the blue one day from P asking how I was doing. Even though things had ended a bit badly and even though our relationship had been really unhealthy with all the cannabis smoking, I still had fond memories of the time we spent together, so I text back saying I was OK and was with someone else and was pregnant. He replied and said he too had met someone else and had got himself a place on a training course for a really good job within engineering.

From there we sent the odd text or email maybe once or twice a year and I learned he was with a woman who had a little girl and after learning I was pregnant, he then learned of my loss. Another year or so passed and I was planning my wedding; he and his partner had just got engaged. Another year passed and I started to become more and more unwell and by now we were onto the start of 2009 and I was diagnosed with Bipolar. I remember mentioning it in an email to P. He said it sounded right as my moods were frequently changing from happy and hyper to low and withdrawn when I’d been with him but he’d thought it was the cannabis. Around this time we emailed regularly for a little while because my relationship with the fiancé ended and P had finished his training course so would email me often and let me know how his new career was going and to see how I was doing.

Then things went quiet for around a year, maybe more, I think it was the early part of 2011 when I saw another email from him. Again it was just an update and to see how I was. I didn’t reply because I think this was around the time I was detained and in the psychiatric hospital. One day nearer the end of 2011 I emailed him and asked how he was, if he was married yet, how his career was going and mentioned I had been quite unwell hence the reason I hadn’t replied until then. The reply I got back shocked and saddened me; his fiancée had cancer and it was terminal. I think I may have written about it on here back then I’m not sure, but that was when we went through another phase of emailing each other regularly. Sadly his other half died, I think it was around 6 or 7 months ago now. Even though he isn’t the biological father to her little girl he’d been in her life since she was 4 and is now just turning 11. She said she wanted to stay with him when her Mum died and that’s what’s happened. Her biological father died in a road accident when she was very little, so it’s quite a heartbreaking story for her.

Anyway… back to yesterday… I get a text from P who I’ve been in touch with on and off over the past 6 months and he says was the offer I’d made in an email of meeting up for a catch up chat and some adult conversation still open as he was finding the grieving hard at the moment and his ‘daughter’ was going to stay with her cousin overnight. I was really nervous but I understand all too well how sometimes when you are grieving you just need an impartial person to sit and talk it all out with. So I said yes it was fine and did he want to come here around dinner time and we’d go for a bite to eat. And that’s what he done.

I was nervous as fuck when he text to say he was in the local area. I looked at myself in the mirror wondering what he would think of me, 7 years since last seeing me, four stone heavier than last seeing me, no longer the 23 year old spring chicken I was back then. But in that time we have both gone through huge losses and life events, we are both older and wiser, neither of us smoke cannabis any more, he has a career and knows about my MH problems but knows I’m trying to better things at the moment now I’ve started the Uni course.

When we first saw each other it was awkward! Neither of us knew what to say and I think we were both kinda looking each other up and down, looking to see what had changed about each other and looking to see what was still familiar. I think we both looked the same facially, just a bit older maybe. He’d put a bit of weight on as well but that wasn’t a bad thing, he was really skinny when we were together and was now just the right size build.

We went to a local restaurant and he treated me to dinner. I was good and just had a chicken salad bowl with the dressing on the side so I could stick to my low carbing as best as possible. The conversation soon started up and before long was flowing away quite the thing. After dinner he asked if I wanted to go to a bar and have a drink. I’m not supposed to drink alcohol on my diet and have no doubt put on half the weight I’ve lost this past week as one drink turned into two, then to five, then up to about eight or maybe I just started to lose count. He only had two as planned to drive home at the end of the night and it was still early at this point.

We ended up meeting up with my best friend and her other friend and staying in the pub with them until it closed at 2am. I was starting to feel pretty drunk so went and got a bottle of water to try and sober up a little bit. The pub was so busy you could barely move but then I spotted a little seat in the corner and plonked myself down there. He sat next to me and all of a sudden said, “I think I’m going to regret coming down here” – I asked why – he said, “because now I’ve seen you again I realise how much I still like you”. I blushed and looked away with a little nervous smile on my face. I couldn’t look back at him without doing these silly little laughs so just gave him a hug instead and said thanks. We both looked at each other and there came that moment… the kiss was about to happen… but something flashed through my head that I had offered to meet with him as a friend, as someone to talk to, that he was grieving, so I just gave him a kiss on the cheek and then said I was going to the toilet.

We came back here after the pub closed at 2am and sat talking until about 3.30am. We took the dogs a walk together, it was so cold outside, Winter is definitely on it’s way! Then we get back to my front door and his car is sitting there and I ask him what does he want to do, come back to mine for a while or head home? Due to this current sleeping on the sofa situation I didn’t have anywhere for him to get some sleep and I wish so much now that I had just put the dogs in the house, got him to drive us both to my best friend’s house and used her sofa beds… because what happened next just ruined the whole evening.

He said it was probably best if he went home, we had that awkward moment where I know we both wanted to kiss each other but we didn’t. Instead I gave him another hug and told him to drive safely. The road he was taking home was going to take him the best part of two hours, it’s a bastard of a road in the day time never mind at 4am in the pitch black when you have been up all day and are shattered. But he said he’d be OK. I text him just after he left saying maybe it wasn’t a good idea for him to be driving home so late but he text back saying, ” got to concentrate on driving, was great to see you again, you’re still hot 😛 ” I giggled and text back “drive safe”.

90 minutes later I get a text, “just trashed my car, think I fell asleep for a second at the wheel”. I couldn’t believe what I was reading, it was just gone 5.30am and he sent me a photo of the view from the police car he was sitting in, the car I’d watched him drive off in was now a crushed heap on the road. After checking he wasn’t hurt I felt so guilty (and still do). I should never have let him drive home. He was breathalysed and it showed just a tiny trace of alcohol, like I say he’d had a couple in the early evening but then stuck to cans of Coke all night. The police got his car towed away and gave him a lift home after taking a statement about what happened.

We had such a good night last night, even best friend liked him, and then it had to go and end like this! He comes to see me for the first time in 7 years and ends up with a car that’s so damaged it’s a write-off and him nearly killing himself at the same time. I wished so much as I read those texts at 5.30am that I could just turn back the clock a couple of hours and have used my brain and said “no, you’re not driving that distance home, you’re getting some sleep first”… but I was a bit drunk and shattered myself and just wanted to flop onto the sofa with the duvet round me and fall asleep.

I know we were only meeting as friends, but he said in person and in text that he liked me. Then the crash happened and today his texts have been few and far between, none of them with little kisses on the end, I told him I feel so much to blame for what happened, he simply replied with “a lesson learned to us both, I’m sure we’ll both know in future not to let anyone drive when they are so tired”. I even offered him my car for as long as he needed it so he could get to work etc tomorrow but he said he would get a hire car until he got a decision from his insurance company as to whether they would pay out or not.

I know we just met as friends. I know he is grieving but he also kept talking about wanting to move on with his life. I know we weren’t compatible 7 years ago but we were so comfortable with each other last night that it was like we had never been apart. I didn’t say anything to him about liking him, he said it to me, twice. I’m sure he could tell by my face I was thinking the same but just didn’t want to say the words out loud.

He left last night saying he’d really like to come and see me again. From his texts today I don’t think he ever wants to come back to this place. I hate when these things happen, you do something completely random on impulse, you end up having a lovely time and then bang it all goes wrong. Instinct is telling me he is going to go quiet on me now, that we will lose touch again and that will be that until some other random email pops up in months to come. I’m not saying I want to get into any sort of relationship with him, not at all, but there was a definite spark between us and I’m now left feeling pretty blah that our lovely night together ended in such total disaster and now he doesn’t seem to be returning my texts.

Ah well, I guess if it’s destined for us to see each other again then we will. If it’s not, well such is life.

Hospital Diary 1 of 10 (from 7th September)

25 Sep

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)

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