My Suicide Attempt, Part 3: The Great Escape

Before you read this post. If you haven’t already, please catch yourself up with Part 2 below:

It was the beginning of September 2020 when my (now girlfriend) fellow patient Layla was set to be discharged. That day, we had education, a time when we were allowed to go upstairs to focus on our school/college work in the hospital. But something within me was restless, and the weight of my struggles became unbearable. As the others ascended the stairs, myself and another patient made the decision that we would escape.

At the bottom of the stairs, a fire door stood as our gateway to freedom. With a shared determination, we kicked the door open and swiftly climbed over the fence. We were on the run, away from the walls that confined us, for what would become a 12-hour journey filled with uncertainty and desperation.

During those hours, my mind was a whirlwind of emotions, and I found myself overwhelmed by darkness. The pain I carried inside me seemed insurmountable, and I made a decision that I thought would bring relief. I took an overdose, seeking an escape from the agony that plagued my thoughts.

Eventually, I was found lying on the side of the road, the world around me fading into a blur. I was rushed to Southampton General Hospital, where medical professionals worked tirelessly to save my life. They were able to intervene in time and I recovered within two days.

However, two days later, my restlessness persisted, and I escaped once more. Fueled by paranoia and haunted by hallucinations, I wandered in a haze of confusion and fear. After around 12 hours, I returned to Southampton Hospital after my psychotic episode began to end. There, I was transported back to Marchwood, my emotions in turmoil.

I remember sitting in the “cage” of the van, a confined space reserved for those deemed a danger to themselves or others. It was a sobering reminder of the turmoil within me, a stark visual representation of my struggle.

Upon my return to Marchwood, I attempted to run again, but this time, I was met with restraint. The weight of my actions was undeniable, and the realization that I needed help became inescapable. I was sectioned, and my freedom was stripped away, held in Marchwood against my will as I posed a danger to myself.

This harrowing experience marked a turning point in my journey, a stark reminder of the battles I faced within my mind. It showed me that escape was not the answer, and that seeking help was not a sign of weakness, but a testament to my strength to confront my demons.

In the aftermath of this dark chapter, I have come to understand the importance of reaching out for support and embracing the help that is offered to me. I can never repeat this point enough…

Recovery is never a linear process.

With the guidance and care of professionals, friends, and family, I have learned to navigate it with more resilience and hope.

As I continue on my journey, I want others to know that they are not alone in their struggles. My page is a safe space for everybody and I will always try and help everybody as well as I can.

Remember, it’s okay to seek help, to share your pain, and to let others be there for you. There is strength in vulnerability, and the road to healing begins with taking that first step towards support and understanding.

Thank you for taking the time and listening to my story. Medium has been a fantastic place for me to open up, receive support, and most importantly to aid my recovery. I feel like I am reclaiming my life and that is thanks to all of you!