I Don’t Want to be Here

Too ugly, too stupid, too hateful to live.  Monstrous.  No Future.  Sleep.

Perennial Victim

Why do we reframe an historical event? Why would we manipulate the facts, to conjure up some convoluted tale in which we are essentially a passive victim so that we played no active role in our own destiny. There is another version of events in which we are autonomous, just like our perpetrators. Exactly whose history are we trying to rewrite? What does all this vying for victimhood achieve? Who divided the world into victims and perpetrators? Who does it benefit? Because it’s certainly not us.

Demonic Possession

Am I possessed? There is a voice in my head saying, ‘You are of no use to anyone. End it now and then you won’t be a burden to decent people. Finish it. Avoid further pain. You’re not supposed to be here. You don’t belong here. An angel made a clerical error.’ There is a sharp, physical pain lodged in my chest, a large heavy stone weighing me down. Some demon has taken up residence inside me. Do I need a psychiatrist or an exorcist? My own mind is torturing me. And I am terrified, paralysed by uncertainty. The world looks like a cold, dark, hostile place. And no one can help me. I am isolated. And there is a word that keeps inserting itself into my thoughts. That word is ‘abomination’.

Marginally Less Parasitical

I thought about jumping from the top storey. I told my doctor about my impulses. Hospital was mentioned but I resisted. In the end I emerged from the doctor’s with extra meds. Doctor S has perused The Mail on Sunday article and had been as disturbed by it as I was. ‘For what it’s worth, I think Daily Mail journalists are only marginally less parasitical than the drug addicts and the alcoholics the newspaper is targeting.’ His words, not mine. Make of that what you will.

Somebody Save Me…

 

I’m drowning.

Then learn to swim.

I can’t.  I can’t.

You can. You can.

Suffering in Silence

I can only begin to imagine the kind of pain the family of Mark Saunders must be feeling right now. Losing a loved one to suicide (and that’s exactly what it was) is one of the worst things that can happen to you.

Because of my situation (I have a mental illness and have spent rather a lot of time in hospital) I’ve lost several close friends to suicide. The repercussions of their actions cannot be underestimated. Journalists have repeatedly emphasised the fact that Mr Saunders was a barrister, destined for great things, as if that somehow should have rendered him immune to mental illness. I would imagine, if anything, that his situation exacerbated his condition. He was intelligent and resourceful, a ‘high flyer’; he was not expected to ask for help and so he didn’t.

Last year an ex boyfriend, A made his fourth suicide attempt. Like Mr Saunders, A was also a high-achiever. He worked in the City and it was amidst the intensity of that world that he had a nervous breakdown. He goes further: he calls it a meltdown. His name for it is his ‘Chernobyl’. After his first suicide attempt he requested help. He didn’t receive any. All the health services in his area had to offer was a cocktail of medication. People have asked why Mr Saunders did not ask for help. I’m speculating wildly here but maybe he did and was turned away like one in three people suffering from mental health problems who appeal to the NHS for help.

The authorities will conduct their inquiry. We’ll shake our heads and ask ourselves why it had to happen and why it should never happen again. But nothing will change and it will happen again. Over and over again.