A Brief Moment in Time

So as I mentioned before, I see what has happened to me as a pyramid with the attempt on my life at the top. All of the roads and byways that I have travelled are underneath, all leading up to the moment when I thought that I had had enough.

Today I am going to explain the lead up to, the planning, the mechanics and my short stay in Poppy ward in Ipswich. The whys and wherefores will come over the next few weeks and maybe months.

In January I had already spent 7 days in a unit after the crisis team thought I should have a short rest in a special hotel. I had been feeling very depressed for months due to chronic illness and other things going on in my life. I knew I needed to do something so had been prescribed mirtazapine to start with. Unknown to me at the time the side affects were going to have a sad and powerful impact on my life. So I ended up in a unit at the end of January as I had been planning my suicide. I was offered lots of help including access to a mental health college and support from a veterans association. Unfortunately when I left there I didnt take up the offer of that help. I was still too ill to appreciate that I needed it By the time I had got around to deciding to take that help CV19 hit our shores and it got forgotten about.

So like I usually do I struggled on. Wearing another mask when I spoke to people, pretending everything was ok and papering over the cracks with the meds. I had to self isolate as I have a rare form of asthma. I have lost clients, I have lost my health, my self respect, my self esteem and I have lost my relationship through failing to cope with isolation and depression. Dont get me wrong I was abandoned by no one. My friends, my girlfriend and my beautiful children all tried to help me but I gradually withdrew further and further into my own little dark dank world. To those that dont suffer from depression its difficult to explain how comfortable it is to remain in that world of depression, it becomes the 'norm'. Over the years a little bit of you is eaten away until all that is left is the bad bits. In order to appear happy and normal you become a very good actor, different faces for different situations. You actually end up forgetting who you really are. This is not to say that my entire life has been like this. It hasnt. There have been times when I am the life and soul of the party, the man that people remember. When that happens its a wonderful but rare occurrence. You end up asking yourself why cant I be like this all the time? You tell yourself that people like me, they want to be in my company. Eventually though you become that sad person looking inwards and being comfortable in that sadness because its easier than making a real effort to be happy.

My physical health has always affected my mental health. I nearly died in 2017 of type 2 respiratory failure. I suffer flashbacks and have been diagnosed with PTSD ( although thats linked to many other episodes in my life, more anon!) I have 2 other chronic illnesses that will only get worse over time. However, I have tried to keep fit and do my bit to prolong my life. Unfortunately over the past 6 months I fell into a depression by me allowing my illnesses to define who I am. I became weighed down by illness by doubt and physically weighed down with fat. I had always tried to look after myself and have always had a very positive body image. I put on so much weight that I couldnt look at myself, even to the extent of wearing a tee shirt when brushing my teeth in case I caught a glimpse of my fat bloated body.

During the lockdown I did nothing, My anxiety over catching CV19 wouldn't allow me to go out at all. I know what if feels like to drown for hours and didnt want that to happen again. So I sat on my sofa doing nothing other than sinking further and further into depression. A scratching sound at my door and I welcomed the black dog back into my home like an old lost friend. Tail wagging, tongue lolling, it trotted into my front room and I fed and watered it, glad to be in the company of a thing I knew so very well. Eventually my girlfriend and I decided to spend a week together. She self isolated for a week and made her flat into a safe haven for me, including a fine bottle of single malt and a cafetiere. After the first two days I simply wanted to go home to my flat, my safe place where my pet dog would be waiting for me to feed it again. On the 9th day I left after making her cry the previous day by drawing the blinds down and shutting her out. The last time I saw her she was asleep and I stroked her hair for five minutes and kissed her and walked out of her life. Its a terrible thing that you end up preferring the company of a big black dog to that of someone who loved you. However, in the grip of depression and prescription drugs your decision making comes a very poor second to the feeling of comfort you get in the familiar world of perpetual sadness that you have made. I cant put it better than Dickens when he wrote 'I made it link by link and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own free will and of my own free will I wore it' .

On the 10th of June I decided to kill myself. I took a last photo and started to record videos for my children, my good friend K, my Mum and sister and brother and my girlfriend. I wouldnt send them, they would be found on my phone after the deed was done. On Friday the 12th of June I got up at 08.00 clear and confident in what I was about to do. I went to the local hardware store and bought stuff to repair my front door so no one could get in. I tidied my flat so when anyone broke in they wouldnt think the worst of me. I cut the cord from the vacuum cleaner and tied it above the rafter in my front room, I put on one of my Dads favourite films 'Rob Roy' and started to drink heavily, Anyone that knows me knows that Im not a drinker! I put the best half of a bottle of Glenfiddich into me and laid down on the sofa. I wrapped the cord twice around my neck and continued to drink. When I felt the time was right, I held the end of the cord in my two hands and lent into the cord and then I was gone. Or so I thought. I sent a horrible message to my good friend K at some point before the attempt so she must have realised something was up. The next thing I know I hear my sister screaming and my wonderful brother in law N was holding me up and taking the cord from my neck. K had tried to break the door down and it was N who helped her. Thank God for my poor carpentry skills and the quick actions of my good friends, who even when I ignored them for months came to my rescue.

I wont go into the detail of the ambulance ride, the 12 hour wait in an A&E cubicle waiting for a bed in a pysch unit but eventually at 3 in the morning I ended up on Poppy ward at Ipswich hospital. Suffice to say it was bloody horrible.

Saturday morning and I had slept from about 3.30 to 8.30. By that morning I had already started to write everything down that by Monday ended up in 34 pages of tightly written script. ( more about that another time!)

I was on 4 checks every hour for 24 hours. I had to listen to windows getting smashed in, inmates screaming and shouting. By Saturday afternoon I requested to see the duty Doctor and asked to be let out. My reason was that the unit was not the best place to be when feeling suicidal. The last straw for me was having to watch a man in a hospital gown covered in human excrement wander past as I tried to eat my lunch ( which was barely edible in the first place!). Later on he was partially dressed wandering the corridors shouting out a prayer constantly. Many of my fellow inmates tried to shake my hand to introduce themselves. they were the nutty ones, the ones that hear voices, the ones that are sadly high dependant drug users. What was I doing in here??! The doctor was very polite and heard what I had to say. She said that it is my choice to leave but if I insisted on doing so I would be sectioned under the mental health act. I smiled and said Id love to stay a bit longer.....

More later. If you are feeling suicidal then talk to someone anyone. The Samaritans are always there to listen and offer advice. Phone them on 116 123 in the UK.