The past few weeks have been too much for me. Just TOO MUCH. Too much hurt and shame. Too much grief. Too much depression and too much anxiety.
On Sunday around lunchtime, Alun got a reminder on his phone about his friend’s birthday party. It wasn’t going to start until 3pm but Alun wanted to join the lads at the bar and start drinking. I understand his excitement at wanting to go out. For all intents and purposes, it was a really bright, sunny, lovely day.
“I’m suicidal and not safe on my own, Alun” I told him. Each word hurt to admit. I hate asking for help. I hate admitting I’m struggling. I want everyone around me to think I’m capable and wonderful and STRONG above all else. I can do anything, guys. I’ve GOT this.
But this day, I was drowning and this was my call for help.
“You’ll be okay” Alun sighed. I knew that sigh. It was a sigh of frustration. He’d been supporting me all week, chasing down a girl impersonating me and ruining job opportunities. We’d both been worn down by a psychopath and were both tired.
Still, I tried again: “Please don’t go, Alun. I’m not doing well and I need you here with me” Alun sighed again and looked at his phone which pinged with the DIDI driver accepting his job.
“Gorg…” I was crying now. Desperate. “I’m suicidal” I repeated.
“So now I have to cancel my ride” Alun sighed. He was annoyed. I understood but if it wasn’t an EMERGENCY I wouldn’t have asked.
This was an emergency. I wanted desperately to end my own life. I needed help.
Even so, the 44 years of being me – the constant people pleaser kicked in.
“Don’t cancel it” I layed on the sofa and covered my head with a pillow “I will sleep and if you only have a few beers, you’ll be back soon, right?”
I lifted the pillow from my head just as Alun was shutting the door and running out to get into the waiting ride share.
That hurt me, you know. It really hurt me.
I’d taken some strong pain killers to help me sleep and although they’d done bugger all the night before (typical) NOW they were kicking in. Ok. I tucked the blanket around myself and nodded off into a fitful sleep.
An hour later I woke. I had dry tears on my face and my eyes hurt from the crying.
I checked my phone. Nothing from Alun.
I was so suicidal. So stressed and so unhappy that every part of my body hurt terribly. My head was banging. My lungs hurt. My eyes filled with tears.
It’s been an hour and Alun hasn’t rung or texted to see how I am? When he knows I’m suicidal?
5 hours later and I was hysterical. No text or call from Alun.
When he did attempt to call me, it had been just over 5 hours we’d been apart. I WAS RAGING.
I didn’t want to speak to him, I wanted to blow his head off.
YOU KNEW I WAS SUICIDAL AND YOU LEFT ME ON MY OWN?!? FOR OVER 5 HOURS??!! HOW COULD YOU, ALUN???
I would have NEVER done that to you.
2 more hours passed with no further attempts from Alun. That was it. I decided to kill myself. I didn’t have enough tablets to do the job so I decided a drowning was a good plan.
I ordered my OWN DIDI to one of my favourite beaches and went there fully intending to end my life. Just walk into the freezing sea and not fight to breathe as my body went down, down, down into the Ocean. Too easy. Especially because 1) I’d given up on myself and 2) so had the person I loved most in the world.
Now I want to tell you this which I think is very, VERY important.
I was so desperate and in SO MUCH FUCKING PAIN that all I wanted was to make it stop.
I didn’t think “Oh my Mom has just lost the love of her life, best not to add to that grief by making her lose her a daughter too”
I didn’t think “Alun has been by my side for 10 years. It’s okay if once in a while he’s a selfish asshole, we all make mistakes. Best not to have him grieve the loss of his wife and forever feel guilty for not staying WHEN I CLEARLY TOLD HIM I WANTED TO DIE that day”
I wasn’t able to remember good days or how it felt to feel happy. I was only aware of SO MUCH INCREDIBLE PAIN AND DARKNESS that I was willing to do ANYTHING to stop it.
Long story short, Alun eventually went home. He discovered me missing. He rang the Police in a panic.
Oh. NOW you’re going to take me seriously? NOW? 7 HOURS LATER??? REALLY???
They found me sitting by the waves and wouldn’t leave until I passed a psych evaluation which I passed with flying colours and was released to go home.
I went home.
Since then, NOTHING has been okay.
I’m still in pain.
I’m SO FUCKING ANGRY and HURT by Alun.
He got drunk (AGAIN) tonight and told me that I am so dramatic that when I said I was suicidal, he didn’t believe me.
WELL I WILL MAKE YOU FUCKING BELIEVE ME WHEN YOU IDENTIFY MY DEAD BODY, ALUN. HOW’S THAT, THEN? HUH?
So this is my last blog, you guys. I’VE FUCKING HAD ENOUGH OF BEING FUCKED OVER THIS YEAR.
Having my OWN HUSBAND NOT CARE if I live or die “Because I’m dramatic” has pushed me over the edge.
I’m in such a dark, scary place that I WELCOME DEATH. I am unable to feel anything but extreme pain and I need to make it end.
So please don’t have a go at me for making my Mom grieve me because I just can’t take that on. I can’t see why living in this incredible pain would be feasible. I LITERALLY CANNOT LIVE LIKE THIS. I can’t do it even for Mom, I just can’t. If I could, I would but I CANNOT. So please don’t hold this against me because I’m not right. I’m not well enough to think logically. I have had the WORST YEAR OF MY FUCKING LIFE and I can’t go on anymore.
Please don’t hold things against anyone who takes their life because the one thing I guarantee I have in common with them is that we were in such unspeakable suffering that all we wanted was for it to fucking end.
That is all.