Motherhood, Madness, God and Me

Suicide Sensitive When I died my head hurt. The world was spinning round, Everything was white, I could still hear sound. When I died I felt peace, Everything seemed still, No regret, not sorry, No more days to fill. When I died a fire, Grew inside my head, White hot explosions, Soon I would be dead. When I died I felt like, Life was slipping away, It seemed to take a while, When I died that day. Except I didn't die, I woke to lights of blue, Cold, wet and frightened, Not knowing what to do. I cried because I lived, Worse was yet to come, Surviving your death, Isn't that much fun. That quietness over, Peace shattered again, Relentless questions, All the whys and whens. Dying hurts a bit, Surviving hurts more, Stares, tears and shame, More than was before. Dying isn't easy, But better I feel, Than living in a mind, That will refuse to heal.

I can't say the words out loud. I can usually type them, and if the right question is asked they tumble out of my mouth quickly once I've started. I can't just say "help me" or "I'm scared". Even when asked it is difficult to get started. The past few days I have been texting the samaritans. It's quicker than emailing but easier for me than phoning and also more private for me too. It takes around an hour for a reply, sometimes less. This is useful for me as my most helpful strategy is delaying action. The straight forward question threw me last night. Even by text I had not actually used the words. I had explained how I had planned. How pointless and hopeless I was feeling. A few hours in I received a simple reply. Do you want to end your life? Not "have you had thoughts of harming yourself?" or "do you have a plan to harm yourself?  I'm not sure that it was that plainly asked ever before. I struggled to answer. The ques...