Let me tell you about a time, a time of crime, well it’s a crime in my head, a memory that still fills me with dread.
Hitting rock bottom on a personal level, I staggered into my flatmates room with a knife, out of my mind, a sign of hope I couldn’t find, deep down I was still contempt enough not to try a genuine suicide attempt, but a cry for help, an internal whelp.
Being in a mess of pure distress, ignored by my best mate, initiating an unknown fate. Reversing the idiom to a hoe before a bro, I hit the lowest of low, the least sense of worth since birth. To this day I thank my lucky star that I didn’t go too far, it was live to survive, slit wrists and a depressive mist didn’t even rank on the “what else could’ve happened” list.
Overcome with feelings of being broken, albeit relieved and happy that I’d awoken. Naturally; heading straight to the boozer with everyone to escape my self-professed title of being a worthless loser, anything to reject reality.
A staggeringly stupid idea when your mindset is engulfed by fear, of course I lost my shit, I wanted somebody to hit, desperate for a release in hope of a tiny hint of inner peace. In my self doubt an unrecognizable version of me came out, I’ve never once been in a fight, I excel best in the approach of pragmatic flight.
However; the time when any human’s ideology manifests a thought where being alive is less favourable than being dead, coupled with feeling nothing but pure furious red, even someone who can’t fight their way out of a paper bag like myself reacts horrendously. Situational intricacies aside, I fought back the urge to cry, instead launching a pool cue at my best mates face, a blind reaction of regrettable hast, albeit mocking a friend for suicide repeals a return of any grace.
A memory from years ago which is still so clear in my mind. Forgive and forget? Who should feel more regret? To this day I feel more in his debt.
4 years on, still my best mate, that stomach churning night of fright was the opening of a personal gate, a trait to never do anything like that again. A learning curve, which may sound absurd, but it was the start of my rise, a personification of how to be as it made me realise there was no malice in the reciprocated reaction. Of course I was hurt thinking I was betrayed by a longstanding mate, but the only issue was his lack of mental health understanding.
That light bulb moment made me want to write about my personal struggles. As if one has never experienced mental health problems, they can never comprehend what others are going through. Talk, educate, help them relate. Sharing these experiences is essential, as we’re all truly strong, awareness of mental illnesses has been ignored for too long. Allowing people to read something that’s real is a fantastic insight showing how invisible illnesses actually feel.
Help your loved ones understand so they can help you when you need them, if not please call Samaritans – 08457 90 90 90– or somebody similar as they are amazing at what they do.
23 years old, living in Manchester but from Notts. After much deliberation I decided to write about a traumatic time in my life a few years ago where I was very suicidal, I knew I was never going to do it but I saw no positives in living. Through counselling and other things I can now control my depression and anxiety which has made me passionate about raising awareness for what people with similar issues go through.
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