**TRIGGER WARNING** This blog post mentions suicide, suicidality and feelings and emotions attached to this action. There will be no disclosure on specific methods, means and if you are feeling suicidal now please Google your local Crisis Centre, hospital or if, like me, you’re in the UK, the Samaritans are there 24/7, 365 days a year on 116 123. Call someone. Be with someone. Why? Because you ARE someone.
Suicide. We all know the word. I’d say probably over half of us have been directly affected by losing someone we love to mental illness.
You probably know from previous blog posts that I have lost three friends to suicide. Each one I’ve handled differently due to the difference in my own mental health at the time of losing them. And I’ve lost count of the number of times I have ended up in hospital (both general and psychiatric) due to my own attempts. Some have been a cry for help, others have been with the deepest intent of ending my life.
If I described my three friends to you, cowardly would be the last word I’d use. They were brave, sassy, funny, bright, fearless, bold and I didn’t see any of them ending their lives. They had families who adored them. They had friends and plenty of them. They were well thought of. But inside their beautiful, scar-adorned bodies, lie insecurities that they dare not share.
They woke up every day fighting battles you couldn’t imagine for the families they were putting a brave front on for. They were all haunted by demons they couldn’t get rid of. They had poorly minds.
I get that. On my last attempt that left me in respiratory failure, the only thought running through my head was “well I’m always letting them down, but at least this’ll be the last time I do it”. You aren’t thinking clearly. You’re not thinking impartially. You’re not thinking logically. In their unbalanced mind, they are thinking of their family and how less of a burden they’ll be. How missed they’ll not be. How life would be better off if they weren’t around.
How fucking wrong were they?
I’m not advocating suicide by any stretch of the imagination. In fact I would encourage everyone who felt this way to reach out for help because you deserve it. You could feel as shitty as you’ve ever felt, you could feel unimportant to the world but in three months, three years, three decades time you could be walking up the aisle to someone who loves you for you, or you could be reading to your grandchildren. Your current situation doesn’t dictate your destination.
This post has gone completely off track to what I thought I’d be writing. The power of the mind hey?
The second funeral I went to, I was in a bad way myself and thought that if someone as colourful as her could end her life, what was I doing alive? I had hoped that her funeral would be a shock to the system to me. Like, for goodness sake, THIS is what you’ll do to your loved ones. But in my poorly mind, I didn’t care.
The third funeral I went to I went in a better frame of mind, admittedly, but what will always stay with me is the agonising cry of my friend’s mother as she followed the coffin. I still have moments to this day where I wonder if my parents would react the same.
Losing the 2017 woman to suicide has hit me real hard. I still struggle with her death 16 months on. I have been to her childhood home, sat with her parents, and sat with her memory corner and had a good old sob. Out of all us in that little gang, I thought she’d be the one to make it. To go on and make that difference. But her beautiful soul was too fragile for this world, and I hope her parents make the difference she was born to make in her memory.
I feel like I’m rambling now, and I’m upsetting myself so I will write more when I’m stronger.
In memory of J.T (2016), I.B (2017) and A.F (2018); our delicate angels who rushed to Heaven too soon, with love xxx
The Warrior Within 