July 4th will probably stay etched in my memory forever.
I'm going to do one of my lazy 'copy-and-paste' jobs because I certainly don't want to write this out again.
This is what I posted on one of my forums:
'I've hit rock bottom. I just can't take any more. I'm so sleep deprived, it just isn't funny any more, and I had to take a cab to take Gabs into school because the battery in my car was flat, and Paul had a flat tyre. My Mum wasn't exactly nice to me this morning, and Gabs told me that Paul was fed up of driving her into school in the morning. I guess that this is goodbye. You have all been a wonderful support to me over the years and I thank you and bless you all from the bottom of my heart. God bless!'I'd reached the point where I felt overwhelmed by everything, and just gave up on life.
The next day, I wrote the follow up:
'My head is still a bit fuzzy from yesterday. I feel that you all need an explanation of what happened....so I'll do my best to tell my story. As many of you have guessed, I was extremely sleep deprived for several days. My depression had reached a level where nothing gave me pleasure any more, and after my last experience with the so-called 'crisis team' I did not want 'professional' intervention. So, to whizz on to yesterday morning. I was extremely tired, felt like death warmed up, had to take Gabs to school in a cab after finding both cars 'inoperative'. By the time I was on my way home from school, I was entertaining thoughts of suicide. I had one last appeal for help. I went into my Mum's room and said, 'Mum, I'm scared. I feel really suicidal!' Her reply was a terse 'Well, so do I!' Then she turned over and ignored me. That left me wondering why the Hell I bothered fighting for this life any more. So, I took my bag, decanted a load of white wine into a plastic bottle, filled my bag with various medication and set off. Close to my house is a railway embankment, locally called the Ralla. It has some beautiful trees, and one tree I love especially is a pussy willow which has grown into a natural den. You can sit with your back against the trunk and be surround by leafy branches...well hidden. It was like being in the womb of Mother Earth. I am a lousy alcoholic and a terrible coward. So I began sipping the wine, and taking an OTC sleeping tablet. I carried on doing this at intervals until I (hopefully) reached the point where I felt so sleepy I'd swallow everything else. The sun shone beautifully through the leafy mosaic above me. It was a good place to die, and I thought about how my body would be a lovely fertiliser for this kind tree. Eventually, I'd taken an estimated 12-14 tablets with wine, and was contemplating if I felt strong enough to start on the others. I was really groggy by this time, and as I checked my mobile to look at the time, Paul rang. I told him that I loved him, and I think I rang off at that point. The next thing I remember, Paul was walking me down the embankment (he said he'd worked out where I was because he heard a train go past). I twisted my ankle badly at one point, because I was so unsteady on my feet. There was an ambulance waiting for me, and a line of nosy neighbours watched me as an ambulance man walked me to the vehicle. Paul came with me. They immediately put a cannula in my arm, took blood samples and I think did other things (remember how groggy I said I was?) In the hospital, I was put on a saline drip, has more blood taken, a urine sample taken and a blood gases sample taken from my wrist. They also kept shining lights in my eyes and checking for other signs of neurological damage. Paul hardly ever left my side. If it hadn't been for him...welll.... After about twelve hours, and an assessment by a psychiatrist so different from the last one I saw in emergency that it was damn near unbelieveable (he was a really lovely guy, and the staff at Fazakerley Hospital were all wonderful), I was allowed home. The only thing was, I didn't want to go home. I didn't want to meet my Mum again. And I was bloody right! She berated Paul from not keeping her informed (he had), claimed not to remember what she'd said to me this morning, and so on. Paul eventually told me to go to bed before she upset me further. So, I'm here...thanks to Paul and the marvellous emergency team at the hospital. My Mum is still claiming that Paul didn't keep her in touch, and is all full of herself and what the effect has been on her. In some respects, I feel like I am back at square one with my Mum. I felt so unloved by her. Oh, don't get me wrong, she has LOVED the drama. She's been out in thet street today, telling everyone her version of the events, and it sounds like she is making Paul out to be the 'bad guy'. I called my sister, Sue, this afternoon, when I felt slightly less groggy, and she confirmed most of my suspicions about what Mum had said to others. No-one is 100% good, or 100% bad, but I have to admit...I'm scared of this happening again. I can't stand this twisting of events and emotional blackmail from Mum. She's just gone up to her bedroom because Paul walked into the room. Here we go again.... BTW: the psychiatrist suggested that my Mum spend a day or so a week at one of my sisters. I explained that one sister has six kids and doesn't have the room, and my other sister is also a depressive, so Mum would have her reduced to slashing her wrists in an estimated two days. My Mum is not always so unfeeling, but she does have these weird phases, and to be frank I can't handle them any more. Yesterday, she caught me at a really low point and made me feel worse. What the Hell can I do?'And on the next day:
'Well, it has just got worse. She has made Paul out to be the bad guy, bitched about him to all the neighbours AND to his parents. She claims that Paul didn't keep her informed on Friday, and had forgotten that it was her comment that took me over the edge. Remember about a year or two ago, when Sue tried suicide and she kept it quiet for a few days? I feel for her now. I've had a good chat with her and she said that Mum shouted down the phone at her when she found out, hence the reason why she kept quiet about it. Paul's Mum tried to take him to task today, because she'd got an earful from my Mum, and finally (when Paul got a word in edgeways), he told her the truth. Paul's brother has kindly offered his own home to us for five days a week, as he works away from home. Mum has gone absolutely paranoid, is convinced that we're trying to get her out of the house (?), and finally, when I said that I could provide proof of her reaction to Sue's suicide attempt, she took off out the door, saying more or less that she wouldn't be back and hinting that she was going to 'do it'. She's done this before...and has come back safe each time. Several years ago, when my Dad was ill, I had to drag her to the doctors after she took a shower in her nightdress one night and claimed to have a little goblin friend. I don't want to intervene again, and I really think that she needs to see a doctor...but even if she did I fear that she wouldn't tell the truth. I've kept Sue informed, but can't get hold of Janet. Jesus Christ! I've had enough of this.... 'Mum eventually turned up safe and sound at Janet's, and Janet told me that Mum had left because the house was a tip! Thanks for your help, sis...NOT!
