I need to apologise for my lack of posts lately. I have had a lot on my mind and have decided to move from my mothers house to a little place of my own. But that’s not what I want to talk about today. Today I want to talk about the first time I attempted suicide. It wasn’t long after I’d come home from living with D the abuser.
I haven’t spoken to many people about this. In fact I have only spoken to my mother mainly about this event. And she didn’t even know it was happening at the time. I will share with you all though because since starting this website and blog I consider many of you to be friends now.
It was one night. I think I was still 17 and I had disappeared for a day or two drinking and partying at a friends house. I can’t remember what started this but my mum and dad arrived worried and all of a sudden fights started between them and my drinking buddies. Physical fighting. My mum dragged me up to our house and locked me in.
She had forgotten about the conservatory doors though. So I ran out them and ran I didn’t want to be locked in a house and certainly not with them. I hated them for embarrassing me and trying to control me. I hated that I had no control in anything in my life. I had no control when I was being punched and kicked day in and day out, I had no control living with them and I had no control in my addiction.
I did however have control in the decision of weather I lived with this physical and mental pain or ending it and hoping that reincarnation was not true. I didn’t want to be on this Earth. To me it was a horrible place filled with horrible people and misery around every corner. So I swallowed a lot of pills.
I swallowed paracetamol, anti-depressants ammytriptoline and anything else I could find in a little bag I had called my pill bag. Then off I drifted. Because i was intoxicated my mum and dad thought I was hungover. I can remember lying on the bed for two days. Paralysed and unable to get out of bed. I was conscious though. I knew what was going on around me and I can remember my dad talking to me, he hated me for putting my mother through hell. And asked me what I had taken. I screamed I’d taken nothing and told him to leave me alone. I just lay there unable to do a thing. I hadn’t died though.
I can remember around 36 hours after taking the pills trying to get out of bed to walk to the toilet. My legs collapsed underneath me and I was on the floor. I crawled to the toilet and spewed. I crawled back to bed and and slept for another day.
It was like nothing has ever happened. So I never mentioned it. I never told anyone and it took me years to tell anybody and I’ve still only managed to tell 1 person.
Since giving up drinking I am a different person. I think different and I view the world in a different way. I believe that my life is only what I make of it. I just don’t want anyone else to go through the things I did. I don’t want anyone to feel the way I did. I was certainly very lucky and have been many times. There are others who are not as lucky as I was and for that I am sorry. I am sorry I was so selfish in my own thoughts. But I’m spending the rest of my life trying to make up for these things.