I don’t want to be dead. I’m suicidal, and I recognise this fact. I think about killing myself the way other people think about what they’re going to have for breakfast. I don’t want to die, I just can’t face the fear and the despair that always return to my mind. It gets to the point where I can’t see any other alternative.
I’ve tried to kill myself a lot of times, 16 to be exact, and I’ve always failed. My last two attempts were definitely the most serious, and both almost ended my life. The first I ended up withÂ multipleÂ organ failure; the last I jumped in front of a tube train and lost a finger. It sounds ridiculous to jump of a speeding train and manage to survive like that. I still don’t understand it. Though it’s fair to say that my attempts are getting more and more desperate, as there is little planning or thought before them.
I’m glad to be alive, I’m glad the last attempt didn’t end my life. But I’m not sure what my life is or how to continue it. I feel such anguish at the thought of carrying on. The worst thing is that on the outside I always appear to be absolutely fine. I can be feeling like I’m about to go insane, and everyone around me will think I’m perfectly content. It’s aÂ defence thing from when I was a child, because my dad was abusing me and I couldn’t tell anyone. I’ve told people about it now, and he even went to prison for it. I’ve never talked about it to anyone though, I’ve never processed my feelings, my thoughts about all of it. It drives me to the brink.
I was in counselling, however the centre I went to didn’t have crisis support, so when I attempted suicide it meant that I couldn’t attend that counselling service anymore. I don’t know what to do. I can feel how fragile am I, and how little it would take for me to fall apart again. I’m terrible at talking to people about my feelings, and I’m even worse at asking for help. Writing in a place like this is the closest I will get.
I’ve been applying for work, and the thought of getting a job terrifies me. I love to work, I’ve always loved to work. But if I get work, then there’s more pressure on me to not get sick again. I’m thinking of going back into hospital, I don’t feel that I’m safe left by myself.