This month is suicide awareness month.
A month for opening up and talking about mental health.
A month for letting those who are scared and lonely know that they are not alone and that there are people that can help. A month to not sweep this epidemic under the carpet.
Every other post on my Facebook feed has been telling people that there is help out there and they are not alone.
I have seen the Samaritans number so many times in just one week that I know it off by heart, and I think its great we are sharing and talking about it.
But I dont think the support system is actually working for those who need it.
There are so many people out there fighting demons that we know nothing about because they hide it so well.
I have always been a fighter.
My mum has often commented on how resilient I am, and that no matter what life throws at me, I always seem to bounce back up fighting
But the truth is, when the world is watching, I put on my armor.
I paint on my makeup, I grab my Maggie Thatcher handbag, put on the Madonna bra and keep battling through with a smile on my face.
But that doesnt mean Im not screaming inside.
Inside I feel like a giant jelly mold and that once those cracks appear its all going to come oozing out and I wont be able to stop it.
So I chose to look for help.
I was 100% truthful, I vowed no hiding anymore, but the system let me down.
Accepting the diagnosis of fibromyalgia was never going to be easy.
I knew this from the start.
And as great as I am at telling others how to help themselves I’m crap at taking my own advice so knew I needed outside help.
I was so scared of how I would deal with mourning the loss of the active person I used to be, accepting I was no longer well enough to run my beloved business, the stress of shutting the doors and letting down my staff, my team, and of putting the emotional and financial strain on my husband and kids.
I have a history of self harming and knew how quickly things could spiral around me so I spoke to my GP and asked for that help.
He recommended a service called Time to talk. They could offer CBT counselling and support whilst I struggled to adjust to my new life.
The waiting list was long, and eventually I was offered a 30 minute telephone slot once a week.
The girl I spoke to was very sweet, but clueless when it came to advice, what should I have expected when she was reading her advice from a computer.
It was a one hat fits all system and it didnt account for individual circumstances.
I understood that people with chronic illness needed to learn to pace themselves, but she just could not accept that if I paced myself then I couldnt run the business.
Her suggestion of when I get tired I should just close the doors didnt help with covering the bills and keeping my staff employed.
The leaflets she sent through compared me to a retired granny who got tired whilst doing the ironing (I know It was a granny as the lady in the illustrations had it written on her mug).
The leaflets she sent through didnt once mention a 36 year old lady with her life in front of her, with a young family and people depending on her for their livelihoods coming to terms with an illness that left her in so much pain and exhaustion.
I understood I should put each worry in a box in my head and address it when I had the energy, but that didnt allow for demanding brides sending 30 emails a week, staff phoning 4 times a day with queries of things that were important to them, but may not have been as high on my priorities as ordering stock, paying suppliers and doing vat returns, whilst taking so many pain killers my head swam.
After 5 weeks we ended the telephone sessions as we were going round in circles.
Then finally I was offered a face to face counselling session of CBT
At the beginning of each meeting I was given a form to assess my mental state. For those of you not familiar with GAD forms or PHQ’s it basically asks how your depression has affected your social and work life, and what risk you are to yourself. The higher you score, the higher risk you are of becoming suicidal or needing professional or medical help.
My scores have varied each week depending on how I feel and what stresses I have had to deal with.
During the weeks I have been seeing her I have spoken about the prospect of having a buyer for my shop, and then losing that buyer.
Ive spoken about my mums wedding and worrying I wont make it I am just too tired to get through the day. Of feeling like the worlds worst mother for shouting at my kids because the pain is so bad I cant think straight. Ive spoken about the affects my stresses and strains are having on my family and Ive spoken about the guilt of making all my staff redundant just 2 months before Christmas.
Todays counselling was tough.
I scored maximum points.
I was honest and opened up about how Im really feeling, of the guilt I am struggling to carry, that by locking the door to my business Im letting go of all the dreams I had when I first opened it, of the feeling that Im letting all those I love around me down and I spoke about how I feel like I am balancing on the edge of those dark places I dont want to go back to.
I spoke of how 3 times just this week I have felt myself starting to slip down the rabbit hole. I have thought about running away, of wanting to take all the hurt inside and put it on the outside. Of hurting myself like I used to, Of how I feel sometimes those around me would be better off without me.
Please dont get me wrong – I do not want to kill myself!!
I cant bear the thought of putting that pain on my family and those around me.
I have acknowledged this feeling and each time managed to climb back up from the rabbit hole.
But I have had the same screaming inside me like I used to and I am so fucking scared that I may not be as strong next time I get like this.
So how did my councilor respond?
She told me that I had used up my 6 sessions and that they only give an extra 2 in exceptional circumstances….. And that she thinks I need more help than she can offer, so the extra sessions would be pointless.
She offered to write to my GP to tell him I am at risk and then handed my the Samaritans phone number as she said good bye.
This is the best support the system offers.
I am lucky that I have friends I can truly open up to. I have a husband and family who loves me and supports me, and although I dont always feel I want to talk to them about whats going on in my black head as I dont want them to look at me differently, I know they are there.
But not everyone is as lucky as me.
So next time you see a friends status on Facebook saying they’re having a tough time, dont just click the sad emoji or reply ‘I’m here if you want to talk’. Pick up the goddamn phone and have that conversation.
Even if you never actually talk about that elephant in the room, let them know that you are truly there. Tell them something funny about your day to make them laugh, offer to meet for a cuppa tea or arrange to pop over and help them with their ironing or together take the kids out for a couple of hours so they can burn off some energy and you two can have a good old catch up.
Yours could be the voice that pulls them back out of the rabbit hole.