How many times in your life have you seriously considered completing suicide? None? Ten?

How many times has your mum seriously considered completing suicide? Your sibling? Your child? None? Ten?

How do those two questions make you feel?

Today is national suicide awareness day, so I thought it was a good day to ask.

I guess the second question is a little unfair because most people will never know the answer. And the pain for the ones who do know the answer….well…. that’s a different kind of pain.

I think I have spoken openly about suicide before, but it looks like I have just touched on it at times.
So, let me answer my own questions.

I have seriously considered completing suicide three times. For me personally, the reason I consider it as serious is because I wrote letters and had a clear plan. That, however, is not what it may look like for others. But that’s what I consider it for myself.

For me to write letters to people, I need to try to ensure things are in order and how

to do it; that kind of planning and thought means to me that it was a serious consideration.
The second time I made a serious attempt (nope, you have not missed the first time, just keep going), I was stopped by two very important people in my life. They just happened to be in the right place at the right time. It was very painful for them. I don’t remember most of it. But when the haze lifted, it was devastating. Lots of people knew about it (not the complex details, but that I was not OK), and I had counseling linked directly to it.

I may never forgive myself for what they went through with me that day and the days after.
The third time, no one knows about it except me and the universe. Rock bottom is different for everyone. I think I have been to rock bottom in different ways, but there was a time when I could say hand on heart that I was in so much pain, in my heart and my soul, that death was the only answer.

I know that sounds extreme, death being the only answer. I understand that many people will think that is not OK.

So, for context…

During this time, I would wake up crying in the middle of the night. Sobbing. Mourning a person who was not dead but was away from me. Someone who I can say hand on heart, that I love with my entire being. And they didn’t want to be near me. They were angry at me and the world. And it broke me.

So,… for context, I would wake up in the night crying if I slept at all. I cried every morning and would break down throughout the day. I cried in the bath. Sometimes, I would sit on the floor and scream and grab my hair…like the pain was so bad I wanted to rip my skin off.

I felt sick all of the time; I didn’t want to eat. Sleep. Talk.

I wanted it to stop.

I was exhausted. I wanted the thoughts to stop: what I should have said, what I should have done, and my last conversation with them.

Are they OK?
Do they need me?
What if they are hurt

Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop.

And there were people that could have resolved some of that pain for me with a simple conversation. They could have told me that things were OK. Some people saw that I was dying in front of their eyes and twisted the knife deeper.
Every morning for seven months, I listed three reasons not to kill myself. Before I got out of bed. I have the book in my room now. I read over it.

Most days, they were just the same three names. My reason not to kill myself. Funny, because one of those names was also the reason I wanted to go. Not their fault. Never that. But love is a complicated beast. The same person who was killing me without even knowing was also one of the reasons I wanted to live.

Can you imagine how much all of this impacted me on so many levels?
Yet I went to work every day. One person at work knew most of it. A few people knew something was wrong. But I would say that 90% of the people at my work had no idea that most of the time, as we sat on teams’ meetings and they moaned about some trivial things such as not having a work Christmas party, I was thinking of reasons not to kill myself that day. To be fair, the moaning about nonsense was a distraction.

One day, I woke up calm—very calm—and decided that was it. Today was the day. It was over. I called in sick…unknown for me.
I wrote the letters.
I tidied the house.
I made sure there was cat food.
And then I sat on the stairs in my hallway for around six hours, crying, and looked at the picture I had at the top of my stairs. It’s a picture of three people—the same three people that I listed each day.

As I type this now, I’m crying again because that shows how much it hurts. I know that if I want to, or even don’t want to, I can be back there on the stairs.

Because no one was coming this time, no one was going to turn up and stop me. I knew that. I didn’t want them to stop me. It was not about that. This was a private discussion between me and the universe. No one else needed to be involved. We come into the world alone, and we leave alone, so it felt right that at my dark moment, I was alone. It felt right for me. It needed ot be resolved one way or another. But not with anyone else involved. Not this time.

I had the same two thoughts for around six hours…maybe longer.
I can’t do this anymore.
What if they need me
I can’t do this anymore.
What if they need me?

It grew dark as the sun went down. I think I fed my cats at some point. At one point, my ginger kitten just sat next to my legs and purred.

Other than that purr and teh sound of trains, I was in silence for hours.

I eventually got up and checked my phone.
I had a few messages.
People were wondering where I was.
People who care about me
My friends
My family
“You OK, fam.”
“You’re not at work. What’s going on?”.
“You didn’t reply to my text earlier; you OK.”
“I think you should come over here for a few weeks.”

I think these six hours on the steps were the start of a significant change in me. I can’t explain it, and I actually don’t think I need to, but I decided that I wanted to live. I decided—not someone finding me and stopping me, not me getting saved. I decided that I wanted to live—for them, for myself.
Did the hurt go away….no. Did I reframe it….yes.
I learned how to cope on bad days. I learned when it was OK not to get up. I learned it was OK not to be OK….but only for a bit.
It resulted in some massive decisions, amazing trips, and just a very different mindset.

The first time I tried to complete suicide, I was 15.
It’s not something I talk about.
When I was 15 mothers, my poor fucking mother found me during an attempt. I had taken the pills. I had written the letters.

Two letters
One to my mum
One to my dad

Very different letters.

I think at 15, I had most definitely had enough of life. I was ready to tap out. I asked some questions and worked out how much you would have to take of whatever not to wake up. I even chucked in some extra pills for bants.

I waited for my mum to go to sleep.  I went and sat with my cat for a bit, and then I sat on my bathroom floor with my headphones on, and I took lots of pills. The last thing I remember is feeling freezing and sleepy and trying to use the bath mat as a blanket as I lay down. It’s funny now to think that I lay on that floor that night at my lowest, and then a few months later, on that same bathroom floor, I found my reason to live.
The next thing I remember is lots of bright lights and shouting. Not understanding what was happening, where I was, or why. My throat was burning, and I felt so drunk. I remember trying to get up and people shouting and pushing me down. I remember wanting my mum.

I remember my mum’s face when the nurse let her in.

I will always, until the day I die, remember that face.

And she asked me why I wanted to leave her.
And I said ….
No, I dont
I want to leave myself.

I remember how people looked at me after. And how people looked at my mum.
I remember how my mum never spoke about it until I was ready and then only softly.
I remember my mum telling me she felt like that, how I felt before. And we spoke about it for hours. I asked if she had wanted to do it since having me, and she said yes.
I asked her why she wanted to leave me.

And she gave a sad smile and nodded.

She nodded because we both finally got it. At that moment, I was not the daughter, and she was not the mum. At that moment, we were just two people who could not cope with this shit anymore.
And now, as I type, I am crying again, Bloody hell. It’s 12 in the afternoon, and I’m sitting here crying because I don’t visit that space often. When I do, I cry, not because I am sad. More, I remember how much pain I was in. And how much she must have been in.

But it’s important.

It’s vital for you to read this to understand what suicide can look and feel like. Well, for me. I can only answer for myself.

To answer my second question at the start of this…I don’t know.
I think my mum would have considered completing suicide many times. I am actually shocked she didn’t. If I was my mum, I might have. Because that women did not get a fair hand in life.
I know that someone very close to me has considered it often.
I know that someone close to me has been to the point I have.
I know my thoughts and actions have impacted someone very close to me in a way that I will never forgive myself,
I know that.
I don’t doubt that in the future, suicide will be very much a part of my life, either attempted or completed. Not by me but by someone who is very hurt and confused.

Enough people do not understand suicide.
It needs to be supported by more people.
Enough people do not speak about it.
It’s not something to be ashamed of, and it does not mean you are mental. But it does mean you need help, support, and love.

My advice is to send the text. Tell them you love them, and ask if they are OK.
You can’t stop someone from taking their life. I mean, you physically can, but you can’t blame yourself if someone does. It’s no good thinking about the what-ifs.
It’s not about them not loving you enough not to leave… it’s about them needing to leave themselves.

Me…I learned to pause…not stop
I even have the tattoo to prove it
Its behind my ear so that people know that I here to listen….always….

And if right now you dont think you can pause….

Speak to someone…please….

Mental health support organisations

There are many organisations who offer support with stress, depression, anxiety and other mental health concerns. We don’t work with all of these organisations, but you may find them helpful.

Campaign against living miserably (CALM)

CALM offer mental health support for UK men and boys as well as those bereaved or widowed by suicide.

Mind

Mind provide specialist support for those who suffer from depression as well as all other mental health concerns. Their aim is to improve mental health services for mental health and to raise awareness of available support.

Rethink Mental Illness

Rethink Mental Illness provide support services for legal advice, financial assistance and carer support. They also campaign in local and national government for improved mental health services.

Samaritans

Samaritans offer free telephone mental health support for any mental health concern including addiction, depression, work related stress, loss, bereavement and loneliness.

Young Minds

Young Minds offer mental health support services to children and young people in the UK. They can offer services to those suffering from exam stress, bullying, abuse, eating disorders,or body image concerns.