17th October 2022 – My Last Day On Earth
The day I overdosed
I dropped the kids off to school and jumped in the car, heading off to work.
I felt upset, my mind was swirling with thoughts. All desperately low thoughts. I had no intention of suicide at that point. As I neared work I became increasingly aware that I would struggle to cope with the day. I pulled over and I broke down into tears.
I realised at that moment that I no longer wanted to live. I picked up my phone and messaged all the relevant people that I wouldn’t be in today.
I then wiped my eyes and started to drive. I didn’t initially know where I was heading. My autopilot was taking me home.
I drove home and parked outside. I popped in, grabbed a box of tablets from the medication cupboard and said goodbye to my dog.
I then hurriedly got back into the car and drove to the woods. I arrived at 10am-ish and sat there contemplating everything.
I had so many things going through my brain, I just wanted one thought to jump out and scream — “THIS IS WHAT YOU’RE THINKING”. But unfortunately any screams were lost in the white noise of the cacophony of other thoughts.
I had no idea what my brain was trying to process.
I grabbed a piece of paper and started to plot all of my outcomes in a spider diagram. ‘MY OPTIONS’ in the middle and radiating out were the different things I could do.
The suggestion that caught my attention most was SUICIDE. I knew that was where my mind was at. I had an overdose in my pocket waiting to be taken and a belt packed in my rucksack.
But seeing it written down helped clear my mind. It quietened the other voices. The other options on that spider diagram blurred until they were out of focus.
Only ‘SUICIDE’ remained. I got out of the car and went for a short walk to get some fresh air. Whether a last chance for fresh air, or whether my body was trying to march me away from the tablets. I’m not sure.
After 15 minutes I double backed and was sat in the car once again.
I started texting people to say goodbye. I started feeling really guilty at the hurt I had already caused, as well as the hurt I was about to inflict on everyone.
I told myself to calm down, because I finally had a way to remove that guilt and self loathing.
I took the first tablet. Then the second. Continuing to take one at a time until I finished the packet. Somewhere in the region of 20 tablets.
After ten minutes or so I started to feel drowsy, I could feel the meds kicking in. It felt great. The pain and guilt and worry all evaporated. I felt satisfied that finally I’d found a way to take it all away. I had no fear, no regrets.
I had a few messages to send. I wanted to say goodbye to my friends and family.
I picked up my now incredibly heavy phone and tried to type some messages. My eyes were heavy and my dexterity heavily compromised.
I sent messages to different people saying goodbye. One friend text me asking what I was doing. Worry clear in his message. I replied that I was simply waiting for the overdose to kick in.
I could feel my phone buzzing non-stop – people trying to get hold of me. I ignored them. But equally I no longer had the strength to pick up the phone. The end was near and I resigned myself to that fate.
The drugs coursed through my body and eventually I fell unconscious. Peace at last.
My memories are pretty patchy regarding what followed next. I was woken out of my sleep by a loud banging on my car window. It was my friend and his wife.
They were shouting at me. They pleaded for me to unlock the door. In my disorientation I listened to them. I unlocked the door and they took over my care.
They saved my life.
I was later told that the ambulance would take too long, so the police – who arrived shortly after my friends – took me in their police van, with my friend’s wife (a doctor).
They rushed me to the emergency unit where I was quickly seen and attended to. My life was saved.
Since that moment multiple mental health professionals have asked whether I am happy or sad that the suicide attempt failed.
It’s a mixed feeling. I knew what I was doing, I wanted to die. So disappointment was first among my feelings.
I then felt a deep shame and guilt. Now that the suicide attempt had failed, I would need to face up to what had happened. The cowardly part of my brain had wanted it to work so that I didn’t have to deal with the fallout.
After many hours talking about the events I am now at a point where overall I am relieved that the attempt failed and that my friends managed to find me.
I now have a chance to seek help. I am also no longer alone. Everyone now realises how deeply unwell I was. How low the depression had dragged me. The secrets are out.
My GP cautiously reminded me that now that I’ve tried suicide there is a possibility that those suicidal thoughts and wishes will return.
My plan now is to get to a place where I am ready to deal with those demons when they arrive.
I’m not ready yet. But hopefully in time I will.
For now I am left with the task of coming to terms with the events of that sad day in the woods. Maybe I never will, but if I can write about it and talk about it, maybe I will.
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