In February I gave myself 6 months to change things. If things didn’t change my intention was to kill myself in august. As you can probably see it’s almost November which comes 9 months after February and I’m still here.
I haven’t had a great year, it has been filled with the ups and downs of a personal rollarcoaster that could rival one of Disney Lands finest. I’m not going to say things have changed. I’m not going to say that I’m ok now, I’m not going to say that I still don’t think people would be better off without me and I’m not going to say that I don’t sometimes still think about dying. I can’t say that I won’t think about suicide again. I can’t promise anyone I will still be here next year. I can’t predict my future.
I began writing about my mental health in late July, 5 months into my pact. This is not the first blog I have written, I have started and ended more projects than I can remember. But this has been the most successful for me. By successful I mean, I have wanted to write, I have made friends, writing, I have been given support. I have written about films, music, general stuff. But this blog has been the easiest to maintain. This blog was private until mid August. My reason for making this public was that I decided that I wanted to attempt to help other people and maybe expressing my struggles so brutally and bluntly, I could help someone, even if it was just one person, maybe understand their own mental health problems and think “you know what, that’s exactly like how I felt this time” I hoped that in doing that, those people would then find the strength to be able to talk about their struggles, whether that would be online, to a doctor, to a friend to their family. I’m sure you get the idea.
I’m not trying to make myself out to be the Martin Luther King of mental health. I just wanted to help people and found this was the easiest way, and maybe in a self-centred way I knew that if people actually wanted to read this it would give me a reason to not kill myself in august. it gave me a way to express myself without hurting anyones feelings, a way for me to help myself understand my own mental health problems as well as help others. And it did.
I keep a physical copy of my posts and a few people in my life to read it this way instead. I have never been very good at expressing my emotions I don’t really understand my emotions a lot of the time. But writing has made it a lot easier to express them. The support I have gotten from people who have read things and now understand me a lot better has been overwhelming. I don’t think people realised just how bad my mental health was until they read about it and in a way that’s probably been hard for them, knowing they can’t help me and that even worse I spend 90% of the time lying to them and saying I’m ok.
I think I have caused a great deal of shock amongst those who know me personally. They may disagree with this, but I doubt they realised just how critical of myself, I am, or how even though I know I shouldn’t do certain things my self control and ability to not do them is so low due to my inability to care about myself that I can’t always stop myself from cutting myself, mixing my pills and drinking more than I should And maybe that’s a good thing. I am the person that always says I’m ok, even when I’m not. And I think it’s important for people who are close to me to understand me, maybe eventually I will talk to my parents too. But I’m taking it one step at a time.
My 6 month pact may have ended 2 months ago, I maybe have survived that. But I will see where I am in February and report back. Maybe I will have learnt to be a better person who believes it when people tell me I’m worth the time of day. But, if I haven’t maybe just continuing to write will give me a purpose I didn’t know existed.
The Elephant in the Room