Reflection. Good or bad? (Article contains content about suicide. Please do not read if you are at risk or sensitive to triggers)

I do not wish anyone at risk of harming themselves to read this. I am trying to show that taking ones own life does not fix any problems. It simply passes your pain onto those you love the most.

I read this article and it threw me back to only 24 days prior to Jaie dying. I’d had the worst year ever so far. I was in a health crisis (impending major surgery), had lost my job I loved and had believed at that point that I’d lost someone precious to me, as a friend. I had been diagnosed with severe depression and put on anti depressants. And referred to the MHU in that town as priority. After attending the MHU under my gps orders that day, I was not allowed to leave until they spoke with my daughter. I was an unknown quantity to them.

I had relocated to live with my daughter. I could not stop the thoughts crashing in. I simply wanted to sleep. Forget about everything. And then ‘that’ thought entered my head. How many pills could I take just to go to sleep and not think. Once the thought had popped into my head I could not stop it returning. My mind was racing. I could not think straight. “The beach!” Was the only coherent thought I could find in the mess called my mind. I walked out to my bike. No word of any kind to my daughter who I had to walk past. Started my bike. And rode off. I almost took myself out on the first intersection. It was a monumental struggle to obey speed limits. I somehow made it to a beach I’d never been to before this day. And I sat there trying to find a door in this long hallway of black and white, which offered me hope. But all I could think was what a waste of space I was. That I had nothing to offer anyone anymore. Not my children. Not my granddaughter. Not my family. Not my friends. Nothing. And no one. And I cried. I made one phone call to the MHU/acute care team at the hospital from where I had been living prior to relocating. I refused to give a name. But the staff member who took the call twigged when I mentioned the town I was now in. She remembered me as a near intake only 2 weeks earlier. Try as she may she got no further details. I hung up on her. My last words were as much to myself as to anyone else, “it doesn’t matter.” The beach was not going to save me. Everything was washed out and lifeless to look at.

Not long after I hung up the phone rang with a blocked caller. I declined the call. Then my daughter text me. And called. I ignored her. I switched the phone off. I was stepping closer to the precipice. Figuratively and literally. People started to arrive where I was. My quiet spot of solitude became too busy. It broke me out of my reverie somewhat.

I walked back to my bike and left that spot. I must have wonderful guardian angels. It was a brief, but dangerously intense ride to another quieter location. I was still sobbing the whole time. I simply could not find a way to ‘fix things’. To make my being here seem worthwhile. My phone at this point had been off for at least an hour.

I parked my bike where it was difficult to see from the road. And I began one of the hardest struggles of my life. I was looking into the abyss and I needed to really weigh up what the loss of me would do to my children. No one else. And that was when I looked for a lifeline. It was sitting there on the seat in front of me. I switched my phone back on. Missed calls from my daughter. Missed calls from a good friend. Numerous texts from both and private numbers. I went straight to my daughters texts. I finally replied. The police had called her. Asking her where was I? My friend called just after I sent my girl a text. He was beside himself with worry. He stayed on the phone with me until my daughter arrived. After making sure we were both safe he hung up. My daughter then spent over an hour convincing me that life was worth living. She also had to contact the police who were on standby to list me as a missing person if she had been unable to locate me safe within an hour or so.

i was a single mum. Main support was my parents and some wonderful friends when my children were growing up. I fought to stay here to protect my children. By harming myself I would only be harming my precious children. They are the only reason I fought. I knew it would do irreparable damage to my babies so I fought. And I’ll say to anyone now, as dark as it may get. As difficult as it may be to fight that insidious darkness, look for someone who cares. And I can assure you they care 1000 fold more than you realise. Fight for that.

2-3 weeks was all it took me to start entering that dark place. Same as for my just turned 22yr old son. However, I do not have bipolar, my support network was close by and I was not self-medicating at all. Jaie was drinking. And alone for the first time in his life. We never knew how much he’d been drinking over that last week, until it was too late. Please, if you have any form of depression or mental health condition. DO NOT self medicate. See a professional for forms of support. I am now seeing 2 doctors and 1 psychologist. I’m on antidepressants until further notice. I was depressed before we lost Jaie. Now I am destroyed. And the thing is, if Jaie thought for one second that his death would cause us so much pain, then I doubt he would have done it. But the illness of his mind prevented him from thinking clearly. Safely. And it took him from us as effectively as cancer.

‘Love sometimes comes like a dream & leaves like a nightmare’

http://www.thenewstribune.com/2014/08/24/3344306/could-robin-williams-death-bring.html