It’s been a month since I reached out to my GP.Since I said the words “I need help”.
Saying those words are one of the hardest words to say.
I think they’re even harder than saying I’m sorry, because anyone can say that, but if their actions don’t back them up, they’re just hollow and pointless.
And since I asked for help, if anything I have got worse.
I’ve been to hospital twice. O
nce because it was thought I could be a risk to myself. And once because I took action to end my life.
I’ve had the crisis team monitoring me every couple of days. I’ve had my husband follow me round the house petrified to let me out of his sight for even a moment in case I decieve him again and bring harm to myself. And I’ve had careplans put in place to keep me safe.
All of these things should help me feel safer, make me feel loved and protected. But if anything I have become worse.
The words I speak to myself are toxic. Belittling and cruel.
Just taking up a space that would be more deserved by another.
I believe I’ve become a burden to my husband and kids. They would have a healthier outlook without me contaminating them all.
When we walk the dogs I feel physically sick each time a car passes convinced my pup will slip the lead and end up under the wheels. Despite the lead bound so tightly around my wrist that my hand goes numb.
I flinch when a stranger walks past me, their jacket brushes my arm. I’m convinced they will stab me. I imagine how it would feel, the cold blade hitting my stomach before the realisation that the warm feeling down my leg is my own blood leaving my body.
To be stabbed is something I’m becoming convinced will happen. I picture all the different ways it could happen as I lie in bed at night.
I imagine running into a figure from my past. I only have to see someone with their build or walk and I start to shake. I pull my scarf up across my face. I don’t want to catch their eye just in case my fear becomes reality and it is them. I used to imagine how I’d scream at them and fight them away. Now convinced they’d overpower me and relive the original nightmare.
I’ve been told that if I keep speaking these fears I’ll manifest them into becoming a reality.
So if they do happen now I’ll have noone to blame but myself.
So I question if it’s better to just leave now.
Do I run away and hide. Cut myself from the past so I can’t sabotage those I love.
Or do I walk into the sea, let the waves take me under. My body turn to ice as my clothes drag me under.
My heads a very dark place to live right now, I just can’t seem to find the switch to make it light again.