I was so low.
Am so low.
I wanted to die.
Yes, in that moment I didn’t want to be here anymore.
There was cutting. Blood.
I’m not proud. I’m just sad. Sad that I was pushed so far. Sad that I wasn’t strong enough to do it…or sad that I even tried.
My doctor knows. He rearranged his surgery to see me. That was kind. He gets it. And then I felt selfish because he’d rearranged other appointments to see me. And I felt I was wasting his time. He said I wasn’t. He is kind.
He asked me if I wanted to commit myself voluntarily for treatment. He wonders whether committing me would help. But he knows me. He saw a deeply unhappy, trapped, lonely man on the Autistic spectrum, diabetic, Anhedonia sufferer, dysthymia sufferer, two strokes and suffering the exhaustion of fibromyalgia. He got it.
He knows there’s no treatment. No pills. No happy pills.
Just support. Whatever that is.
So the crisis teams got involved. They rang me. One even spent 90 seconds with me. Didn’t ask anything useful just what time I’d be going to bed. Great eh ?.
Second team better but apparently you aren’t allowed a life. If you don’t sit by your house phone waiting for their call they get shitty with you. And when they get told to ring back it’s after they’ve gone home for the day.
Apparently you can only have a crisis between 9.00 and 5.00.
My physical wounds are healing. My mental ones run deep. Physical exhaustion to mental exhaustion in one vicious circle. Round and round.
I just want to get off.
Everyone asks me if I have the means to kill myself. Dumb question. Cupboard full of pills, knives in the drawer, road outside where someone could run me over. Yeah I have the means.
We all do.
I’m scared to die but don’t want to live. I’ve nothing to look forward to. Zero. Nothing.
What’s the point ?. Seriously ?. What the fuck do I achieve by being here ?.
Everyone would be better off if I was dead.
Today I’m alive.
Take each day as it comes they say, take it slowly, be kind to yourself.
I hate myself. What is there to be kind to ?.
I fell off the precipice.
Couldn’t even get that right!