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Crow
Copyright Crow
I wrote anonymously on saturday night with the closing sentance "i want to die". This morning i slit my wrists after my husband had gone to work. I initially toyed with the idea, dragging the blage across my left wrist lightly, then i cut my right wrist deep enough to touch the vein but didnt cut into it. i did that twice. Both my wrist were bleeding but not pouring like i was going to die. I was just going to cut them deep when my dog started to jump up at the house from outside in the yard and wimper. I guess he could hear me crying.
In april this year i took an overdose. The pychiatric team gave my husband a card with an emergancy number on it, this morning i called them. Guess what? it was an answer phone. But they phoned me back and called an ambulance and got me to hospital. Then a social worker and a shrink came to talk to me. I was cooporative and helpful and i told them everything i could. They agreed with me that there is nothing that anyone can do. i am seeing the best shrink in the uk (in their opinion, i agree he's pretty good) and i am on the highest dose of drugs that he can put me on without locking me up. If they lock me up they know it will not help.
So now what do i do? I dont really want to die, i just dont want to be me any more. If i had enough sleeping tablets i would take them all, just so that i can rest for a while.
I say that noone listens but i have nothing for them to listen to. I ask them for help, but there is nothing they can fix. I know what i want. I want to curl up in a ball and waste away into nothing. i want to swop my body for the body of a cancer patient, i want to givethem, the one who wants to be alive, the chance to live in my healthy body, while i rest in the knowledge that i am dying in their sick body. i want to give so much, but i am trapped inside my head.
I used to work in a mental health secure unit. The guys in there used to pretend they were sick just so they didnt have to cope with reality. Then, after a while, they would just forget how to cope and they would stay sick. I sometimes wish i had taken a leaf from their book. But they have no guilt. I have guilt. I only remain alive so that my husband wont have to find my dead body, so that he wont have to deal with the grief.
I dont know how to cope but i dont know how to die. Noone can help me, not even myself. So what do i do now?