Thanks guys.
Things are starting to get a little weird/scary in my brain.
Really not liking getting this close to the anniversary.
A lot of painful memories.
Too much pain.
Need to try write it out.
It's Saturday here now.
Saturday last year was the 19th, and the wedding of the now Duke & Duchess of Sussex.
I remember watching the wedding last year, in our lounge.
My flatmates were there.
We had the log fire burning.
I was messaging one of my cousins throughout, who was also watching it.
We were talking about small things, like whose hats we liked best.
She had no idea that on the inside I was completely, utterly, falling apart.
Neither did my two flatmates who were sat in the same room as me.
I suppose in that respect I did quite well at hiding it.
I went to bed after midnight, but didn't sleep till pre-dawn. 4am or something.
I was only on mirtazapine for sleep at the time and it just wasn't helping my insomnia.
I woke up the next morning (Sunday 20th) exhausted as usual, but weirdly calm.
Unusually calm.
I'd made my decision that I was going to end my life that night.
That day felt agonisingly long.
I think I took up the time by making a curry from scratch. Can't remember which one.
I never even ended up eating it.
I ended up bingeing on a ginger slice I'd made.
I was anorexic at the time, but figured that I was going to die so why not experience what food tastes like for one final time.
I said goodbye to Tweeter.
Told him I loved him.
Told him to be a good bird.
I sent my supervisor a text saying apologising in advance that I would be absent from our Monday meeting.
I didn't give a reason.
When it came night time I smiled and said goodnight to my flatmates.
I wrote a suicide note that I left on my bedside table.
In it I asked for people to forgive what I'd done.
I took my ginger slice to bed.
And then in the early hours of Monday 21 May, I took my overdose.
The worst part was the waiting.
Waiting for the medication-induced sleep that I thought, and hoped, that I would never wake up from.
I woke up at some time the following evening or late afternoon.
I was very very very out of it.
Memory is fragmented, understandably.
I know I had a text from a friend of mine, unopened, on my phone.
She was asking if I was around at all.
I replied back that I'd just woken up.
And then when she asked how come, I responded that I'd taken a bunch of pills.
Then a memory of realising that it hadn't worked, finding some other pills somewhere, and taking those.
Then of speaking on N and possibly also B on the phone.
They were asking me to list what I'd taken.
Then of someone by my bed, holding my hand. But it was dark now.
And then of me being halfway down the hallway going towards the ambulance parked outside, but no memory of getting out of bed, making it to the ambulance, or if I was walking with assistance/wheelchaired/stretchered.
I think next memory is from the following morning, being wheeled from ED -> psychiatry.
Sitting in the waiting room and sobbing.
It hadn't worked.
I was a failure even at trying to die.
