10 suicide attempts in 10 months.

I first began getting suicide thoughts in 2008, I had worked as a stripper for 4 years and those 4 years were a slope into depression. I was smart, and I hated what I did, but I was poor and money had always stopped me from ‘living.’ It invariably became my near death.
I wasn’t on drugs, I hadn’t even touched them. So lets just clear that up as the stripper word comes with its judgements.
I also want to say that it was my choice and greed that led to my downfall, people did help me along the way, taking what they could, be it money or something else I could offer. My heart broke all the time, friends sleeping with my partners behind my back and visa versa. I had no one and nothing. I would give people money or buy them things because that is how I learnt to get love.
It is safe to say I was a sad, lonely and desperate woman.
In 2008 anxiety hit me hard, I was having panic attacks and one day had one in a west end london table dancing bar, ambulance was called and I left.
Never to return. My anxiety was crippling. I saw a doctor and was put on effexor xl. An anti depressant and anti anxiety medicxation, soon 35mg shot up to 300mg a day. I was glazed over, vacant and slid off the rails.
On my own I would drink and drink and drink, days were lost, till I found cocaine, then life became a party, until my erratic behaviour stopped anyone from wanting to associate with me.. rumours hit the high society circles I was mixing in on my stripper past.. people I confided in just gossiped and joked about me to others. I was constantly told how much I was hated. I hated myself. I felt so black.
Then one evening I met a hollywood actor and thought in my fucked up stage he would save me and life would change… I went to a party at his friends in north london and was raped by him and his friends. I was out of it. Although according to them ‘up for it’….. thank God for the black outs.
Two days later I took to primrose hill with a razor blade and sat under a tree in March, cold and damp, hacking at my wrists.. the wounds werent deep enough to kill.. I wasnt brave enough.. yet.
I went home and cried and drank more.. the next morning the police arrived at my house, two girls who I was friends with had got the police to get a harrassment warning issued on me.. they had been making jokes about what a mess I was on th einternet for all to read.. in my drunk state I responded.. then passed out. When I woke they had deleted what they had put and it just looked like I was ranting about nothing.
The police believed them.
That afternoon I purchased a bottle of vodka, I sat in my room with the door locked.. drank it back and this time I cut my wrists 47 times all the way up to my inner elbow. The wooden floor was a puddle of deep scarlet blood, I was whaling in pain like what can only be described as a death rattle. I was broken and couldn’t live. It felt like no one could save me and all I needed was a hug.
I had written something on my fb which alerted a number of friends and family and it was that that made them alert the police. They broke into the house and I was found unconscious, covered in vomit, blood pool around me.
I was put in A&E. stitched up and shipped off to a room to rest. The next day they let me go home no questions asked.
The Royal Free Hampstead (horrendous)
all I remember about that night was being in the bed and a porter waggling my arms about to a colleague and making jokes at me.. I felt like I was a corpse in a morge being fooled with. I was too exhausted of life to even respond.

I went home for two weeks to stay with my family and then returned to London. I watched them cry and get angry with me, I saw my Dad curled up on his bed and cry like a baby.
I’d broken their hearts and I still hadn’t dealt with what just happened. I never really did.
From April till around October I managed. Partying and found what I thought was a female friend, she stole off me and owed me thousands, when I asked for it back she went to the police and told them I had been harrassing her, she used what I confided in her about the other girls to get out of paying me back..
shortly after I met a guy, who I felt really loved by, I fell pregnant, I wanted to keep it. He told me if I had an abortion we could have one again in a year, I believed him. As soon as the abortion was done so began to emotional abuse. He constantly reminded me of how worthless I was. He spat on me during sex and would hit me. I let him. I loved him and I hated myself.
During the next 10 months the feelings came back, I had to die. I would spend nights obsessing over methods and how to get the necessary tools.
I went from drinking 100cl of vodka and putting a plastic bag over my head till I suffocated to taking 15 zopiclone whilst I led next to my boyfriend. I wanted to hurt everyone like they had me, dying was my way of letting these people know what they had done to me.
So that was another 3 times in the royal free just to be let home the next morning when I came round, no call up from my doctor.. just left to try it again. The next time was a drugs overdose, found in the streets of a middle class part of north london, sent to The Royal Free, let out the next day.
Then came the other methods, the ones I thought would work. I drove drunk in fields in the countryside and drove my car into trees without a seat belt, drove to beachy head to jump off the cliff (but ran out of petrol and got lost), vodka posioning thinking it would make me choke on my vomit and then my final attempt was in Brighton, walking into the Sea during a storm.
I WAS ALWAYS SENT HOME FROM THE SAME HOSPITAL! The nurses would joke about the amount of times I had been in to my partner or to me. I don’t think I was alive after the tenth time. I wasn’t functioning. I remember being locked in my room for days and my kidneys being so damaged from the poisonings, I would have to sleep with a towel round me so I could let out burning urine onto it.
I never answered my phone, life had forgotten me and I had forgotton it.
Incase you wondered, this is what a nervous break down looks like. If I was in the states I would have been admitted after the first time.
I was kicked out of my gorgeous house and was left in a studio on my own. My boyfriend was all I had and he would only come over to have sex. He never took me out, he was ashamed to let people know we were together. People were saying I was a crack whore or whatever they could to satisfy the hate. I wasn’t but I didnt even care to fight back anymore. These are the people you have in your life when you hate yourself and in a city like London these kind of people are ten a penny. I remember writing blogs saying I was hunting for ******** and these people writing underneath they hope I found it, anon comments asking why I hadnt died yet.

STOP!
Enough was enough and I wanted the fuck out of this, but not to do what people wanted, I wanted to be HAPPY again. I came off effexor, it was a terrifying journey of brain zaps and shakes, sweats and agony, but I did it.. and the fog cleared. I stopped drinking and returned to college. I got a schedule, I spent time with my family, I didnt read what sadistic people from my past wrote about me, I left my boyfriend.
Easy steps that have kept me alive. I’m not crazy, I thought I was, I went to see a therapist, I had a breakdown, I was ignored by the NHS, and I am lucky to be alive.
I reached out to the right kind of people and suddenly I realized I am not alone. I havent wanted to die since, not even on a really bad day. My ex boyfriend still sends me horrible emails making me feel useless, asking me why I didnt do a better job of killing myself.. alot of people wont talk to me because word is I am a nutcase or crazy.
I know I was just hurt, and I ruined my own life, I ruined many years and worked against the natural order of how life is supposed to be for me. I’m still skint but I’m working towards a career that doesnt make me hate myself. I dont ever want to feel sad like that again, or let people hurt me like that. I am so lucky to be alive and to be safe now. I never wanted to die I just wanted some one to notice me and my pain.
Life can be fucking cruel, but you do have the ability to change things for the better, I had nothing and now I have everything to live for.
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