Day 1: One Day At A Time

My name is Sam, I’m 23, gender queer and last night I was going to kill myself. I know the thought isn’t great. It sucks to think about anyone doing that nevermind one of the people close to you doing that, but that’s my truth. Now I’m not here to preach about mental health and it’s value because, to be honest, I’m nowhere near that point right now. What I’m here to do is share my story. The ups and the downs one day at a time. This isn’t designed for attention, nor is it for sympathy, this is here for those who need it, people like me who feel so alone and different from the rest of the world they don’t feel they have a choice. 

Now today’s issue is focusing on yesterday (1/6/21). So let’s start from the top, nothing out of the ordinary happened, no tragic accident, no big mistake, no wardrobe malfunctions and yet, from the moment I woke I could feel this deep numbing pain, one I’ve felt off and (mainly) on my entire life. If you’re fortunate enough not to understand this I’ll try explain the best I can. I left the house with no intention to come back because every cell and fiber in my being was telling me that was the right choice. My inner monologue telling me over and over that I don’t deserve to be alive. I don’t know where it comes from, maybe the childhood bullying, maybe other trauma, maybe just something I was born with but I have never once considered myself human. Strange right? Basically through my eyes the world is a very different place to what most people would typically see, I believe. I see myself as nothing more than a cancer when I’m in that state, something so sub-human that it’s unbearable. In this state I tend to hurt those around me (mainly my now ex) to the point where I’m not only damaging myself, physically and mentally, but I’m also destroying the relationships I have with the people around me and damaging their mental health.

Anyway after forcing myself to go to work, where I was your local fast food worker at the time, I knew that it wasn’t going to work out for me. I didn’t have any intentions of staying for my entire shift, nor did I worry about the problems it would cause me and the other workers if I left. I had this deep rooted urge (I still do) to end it all, not for me, but for those I hurt. You see, they tell you suicide is selfish, that it’s wrong, that you shouldn’t do it, but when you’re at that point nothing gets through. Luckily I had intervention last night but many people won’t have that luxury and for that I’m truly sorry. For me when I feel suicidal it isn’t what people tell you it’s going to be like, I don’t cry, I don’t feel sad, I don’t feel. I become so numb and so focused on trying to do “the right thing” by removing myself from the lives of people I hurt, maybe one day I’ll look back at this chapter of my life and see it through different eyes but as it stands, I can’t honestly say I would have regret my decision. 

After I walked out of my shift I began talking to my partner, she wanted to break up with me. Bummer I know, but I get it completely and hold nothing but love for her. The strain I’ve put on her throughout our relationship is nothing short of appalling, to be honest it’s the one real regret I have with my life so far. Also for the record at the time she had no idea about my intentions or desires, this wasn’t something she did to make me feel worse or to pile everything on top, this was (for the first time in a while) her completely looking after herself, couldn’t be happier about that fact. It’s weird, I’m heartbroken writing this I truly am but at the same time, I understand, I relate and I don’t blame her. 

  Anyway after that conversation I began showing intent to her, fortunately she’s well versed in these matters and was able to understand my feelings. She eventually got me to admit I was going to kill myself and selflessly abandoned her work 2 hours away to come be by my side and try to help me through this. If it wasn’t for her I wouldn’t be writing this. Truly, she’s the one who convinced me to go home, she’s the one who convinced me to wait for the ambulance and when all is said and done she’s the one who I know will be there for me no matter what. I couldn’t have had better support or a better partner if I tried. I know it’s sounding rather sad but I’m writing this, I’m processing, a lot of the reality of yesterday still hasn’t sunk in. 

 So I arrived home, she convinced me to talk to her for a bit before I went to do it and phoned an ambulance without telling me knowing I would get skittish and try to leave the flat. When I did find out, I did leave. I left the house 4 or 5 times over the course of last night trying to escape what I believe is unnecessary help. Don’t get me wrong I probably am not healthy, but as I’ve said I don’t believe I’m human or even on the level of them so I’m my opinion the NHS would be much better off serving those who need it. 

 Around 7/8pm I started to self harm, it’s nothing I’m proud of and is actually quite rare for me. Usually I get aggressive, I throw things and hurt myself to take it out, but this wasn’t like any other time. I’m covered in cuts and probably scars for a while but that’s ok, honestly I don’t mind. But as you can imagine this was a cause for concern for my partner, she had no words, nothing was able to come from her due to sheer fear and shock. I was home alone for roughly 4 hours due to circumstances and to be honest, I can’t give a reason why I kept clinging on other than her. When she arrived home she attempted to talk and plead with me to stay and wait for the NHS to help me out, once again I got skittish and tried running away.

 This is the important moment, and it’s going to sound stupid but this is how my mind works. I went out with intention of killing myself, a slight plan in my mind nothing concrete yet I was just going with the flow. But after about 5 minutes I had to come back, to change my pants. Dumb right? Well basically I realised they were her joggers and I didn’t want to hurt her anymore than I had to do I wanted to leave them behind so she could have them. That’s when she finally convinced me to stay and wait for the ambulance, a service which she had already recalled and told them about my self harm and skittish nature. That’s when the police arrived.

 Now, a lot can be said about the police. Brutality, abuse of power, say whatever you want, but from my experience last night, amazing people. They didn’t restrain me after I disagreed to go voluntarily (took a lot of convincing to get to that point) they sat with me, talked to me like I was like anyone else. No slowed down words or soft voices, genuine conversation from people who saw me as one of them. I’m eternally grateful for this. 

 It was a weird experience going to the hospital from there, riding in the back of a police van is never fun. But again, the treatment I got from the officers made a massive difference. It meant a lot to see people other than my partner see me as one of them. 

 At the hospital I was eventually treated by a member of the mental health team called Alice, a bright bubbly personality who (against my intentions) managed to get me to be honest. We talked about a few things I’ve been through, addiction, debt, sexual assault/rape, and more stuff that I’m not quite comfortable sharing with you all yet. After I told her my story and we talked about my feelings and my mood swings, I tend to be very excited very depressed or nothing (I suspect I’m bipolar but I have no authority to say that I am and by all means don’t take that as me giving an official diagnosis to you all). After that she went to make arrangements for long term care for me. That was when I met Neil, another member of the mental health team who was assigned to keep an eye on me while I went for a cigarette, nice bloke Neil is, he told me the truth, it’s not an easy fix a lot of the time  and different things work for different people. I knew this already don’t get me wrong, but there’s something about hearing it when you’re actually willing to accept help. When I met up with Alice again she had a plan for me, I’m now working with the home base support team I believe it’s called, a team dedicated to helping people with mental health issues but are ok without being hospitalised. She arranged for me to join this programme and has actually set me up a meeting with one of the team at my house on 3/6/21. After that I just made my way home and passed out from mental exhaustion. 

  I woke up and immediately started writing this, not for me, not for my ex, not even for my mother. I’m doing this for those of you out there who feel alone, who have no choice. I’m saying I get it, more than you could ever know but the only thing we can do is take it one day at a time

2 thoughts on “Day 1: One Day At A Time

  1. You are fearfully and wonderfully made!!!! As YOU!!!! There is no other YOU out there and if the world had lost you this night their would never be another YOU!!! YOU are here for a reason….please talk to someone…meditate… is my go to….anything besides getting rid of YOU! I don’t know you personally, but if I felt led to comment on this….I CAN”T BELIEVE NOBODY ELSE HAD!!! what kind of crap is that???!!! I am no saint, but I have been where you were this moment and I promise you I am so glad 23 yrs later today that I couldn’t even do “that” right 23 yrs ago! The darkness goes away….the sun will rise again. I promise YOU!!!!!


  2. And thank you for sharing this vulnerable piece of you….I was diagnosed with Manic Bipolar depression and PTSD from some of the same things you went thru it sounds like. I just got my dr diag maybe 6 months ago but had lived with it inside me for years….anger…manic fits….social anxiety like hell….but hes right, like recovery their is no one size fits all, one must keep at it one day at a time to find their best version of themselves….best of luck on your journey…


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