Motherhood, Madness, God and Me

Would you walk by the tearful man on the bridge? Would you run past the girl crying at the train station? Would you drop a line to somebody sounding down on social media? Would you tell yourself when you saw their smile beaming from the newspaper after their death that there was nothing you could have done? Let me tell you. You could save a life. The Samaritans #smalltalksaveslives campaign highlights this. A small kindness, even an acknowledgement. A small effort, could give strength for one more day. A dog walker saw me. I had a rope round my neck but wasn't yet hanging. It was dark. I held my breath but his dog came to sniff me. He shone a torch towards me and called the dog away. He walked on by. I have asked for support for a client who wants to end her life to be told she doesn't mean it. Leaving me no choice but to leave her and wait anxiously to see the news the following day. I have been sent home alone in a taxi in the middle of the night after a suicide attemp...

People will speak of surprise. She seemed so well. She looked so happy. She had so much to live for. Why didn't she ask for help? How could she leave her children? Is it really a surprise? Loosing my mind. Loosing my job. My parenting investigated. My body pumped full of poison. The loss of my community. My friends. Alienated, blocked, ignored by those I thought loved me. I did not want to leave my children. To be honest they bought me an extra year. They deserve better. They will get it without me in the way. I did ask for help. Several times. Help isn't there. Removing freedom doesn't save people. It just makes it harder to ask for help. Nobody has been able to lift me from this pit. Asking for help involves switchboards, receptionists, knowing that nothing will improve the physical pain, knowing that when you get through they will wonder why you bothered phoning if you really want to die. For me this is not a surprise. This is not an impulse. This is being too t...

I know I am loved. I often can't see why. I know my children love me. I don't think they could quantify why though, I perhaps wonder if it's just that they have been trained to love me, it's expected that small children love their mothers. I know my husband loves me. I wonder if it's still the love for a wife, or it's that he is my best friend, or it's a dutiful love. He married me and now he's stuck here. There are others I know care. I know I have friends who care. Again I wonder if it's a duty thing again. It's been implied that church members love me sacrificially. They are required to love me. Although some obviously do that more than others. I have some wonderful professionals looking after me, as well as some who, well, are not so great.  Again, some you can see do care. They care how I have cared and had fondness for some of my clients. They care, but they are paid to. Today was a bit of an eye opener. I said that I didn't want t...

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...