Not Expected to Live

In July 2009, my mum heard the words no mother ever wants to hear “Your daughter is in ICU. She’s not expected to live.” Almost 2 years later, I am still alive, but my mum is not. Talk about irony. I had landed in ICU (for the second time in 18 months) after taking an overdose of my anti-psychotic medication, Seroquel. I remained in ICU on life support for 48 hours, and then spent a further 2 days in hospital under close observation and on IV anti-biotics after contracting pneumonia from the breathing tube.
I had my reasons for wanting to end my life, but didn’t feel like I could talk to anyone about them. Like I said, this wasn’t my first attempt, nor was it my last. It was, however, my most severe. I am extremely lucky to be alive. My mum lost a 10 month battle with breast cancer 12 months ago. Living without her has been immensely painful to say the least. My battle with suicidiality and mental illness is far from over. Some days just getting out of bed is more than I can deal with. I am almost completely housebound with severe anxiety, and I battle daily with the effects of Depression, PTSD and Borderline Personality Disorder.
I have had two separate skin grafts for self-inflicted burns, and my arms and legs are covered in scars from years of self-harm. I know my story is not unique, and people all over the world are going through what I go through on a daily basis. But when you are so severely depressed, you feel like there is no one who could possibly understand how you feel. I am extremely lucky to have an amazing psychologist, who is so understanding, and no matter what I throw at her she still manages to keep me (somewhat) grounded; and her empathy is wonderful.
I just take each day as it comes now. Some days are easier than others, some days it is literally one breath at a time. But for now, I am still here and that is something to be celebrated.