Loaves fishes and miracles-searching for my dad – part one

Loaves fishes and miracles-searching for my dad – part one
A week ago I went into a church I last went into when I was eleven years old; it’s a long long time ago. Ghosts is not the word. It was always a place that leaves me with a smile. The plan was to commemorate my aunt at the time the funeral was taking place. Chose that church because it had good memories.
Walking in, felt so small, guess last time I walked in I was just that bit shorter, still as beautifull, still as calming. Sat in a pew. Felt as if there was only really one place to sit ???.
After a few minutes the Ghosts began to surround me, subtle pressure at first, then squeezing me tighter and tighter, getting in to my heart, getting into my brain. I thought I would try and look around, look at all those nooks and crannies, that as a child I wouldn’t be allowed to look at. Took my mind away for a few inches.
Beautiful stone pulpit, with sculptures of stone flowers underneath. Some of those flowers wearing away felt a twinge of gulit, remembering caressing those flowers all those years ago.
Looked at a plaque showed the name of the son of the man who had abused me, felt like my legs disappeared beneath me, mind swirling. Suddenly wanting to shout out for my dad.
My abusers son had NOTHING to do with the abuse; he had died many many years before that in the Second World War. It was the name; I knew his name was on the war memorial in town.
Just wasn’t ready to see that surname. I think a few hundred boxes of memories; bad memories burst open like a vein bursting open and haemorrhaging life.
This last week I’ve been haemorrhaging life. Struggling to hang on to life and just even breathing has been a challenge. My feeling I can’t live anymore has been there so strongly. Guess I’m on the edge. I think I’ve got one foot firmly planted on the edge, toes curled tightly on the edge. The other foot has a miniscule turn outwards, towards the side. My big toe is on the edge, the other toes are turned outwards by about forty degrees.
Guess my mind is working, so I am thinking, but not sure I can keep on and keep on. Need respite and if it’s there its hiding well in its invisibility cloak.

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CRASHED INTO CUCKOO’S NET

Tough week, last week was one year since I tried to end my life. It’s wrong to call it an anniversary. Cant find a word for place or the process. I’m remembering so much more about that period, its really scary and downright weird. I found myself linking up about every five /ten minutes and remembering, at this time I  ……. At 17:30 I was sitting in front of three people who were deciding my fate.

I had been in the psychiatric unit a couple of hours, people were speaking to me, had been brought into a room,searched by a woman police officer,she was perfectly fine, but it was still a shock. I was so cold and shaky having been in the open air for a while. Everyone was ok ish,given tea, so aware I was in a room that I couldn’t get out of. Put in the room next to it. There was a setee  and three chairs, looked as if someone had tried to design it for patients and staff, but from a staff perspective.

No one actually said what was going to happen, apart from ,I wold be seeing a Doctor soon. What felt like ages a man appears,he did shake my hand, top marks,(I’m a succour for a hand shake) introduced himself and the others would be along later,that the social worker was brilliant. BUT NOONE SAID WHAT WAS GOING TO HAPPPEN.

So me sitting there on the settee,a  male psychiatrist , a male  GP and a female social worker. The GP said he was there for me, to help me ,but he didn’t talk to me first. Lots of questions,beginning to feel under siege, realising every   breath,every word,every body movement was being analysed. Each person  was distantly friendly,but so distant,lots and lots of questions and I felt like was losing the battle. WHY WAS THERE NO ONE THERE FOR ME.?

If your arrested your told what is happening,and have access to a lawyer,how come there is no automatic help when it’s being decided your losing your liberty because of actions due to   supposed mental health issues. I guess its legal to kill yourself ,but illegal to fail to kill yourself. If you say you’re not mentally ill,well you would say that anyway,wouln’t you.

I knew I was in extremely serious trouble when the psychiatrist told me I was “  beyond Samaritans”. I had been talking to Samaritans on top of the cliff. Later the  psychiatrist  in response to me saying I felt sick ,said drinking the tea I had my hands cupped round ,would “do me no good”. For me that felt as if he didn’t even think or care what the tea was doing for me. The tea was in a cup, albeit plastic,still was warming up my hands,and giving me something to do with my hands. He didn’t sugeest an alternative,but the words felt as if they were accusatorial. OK tea for me solves. ALL ills and every problem is assisted by a cup of strong milky tea.

Part two to follow, its painful to write this.

It seems so contradictory when the places and people who set themselves up to judge you   create a situation that in its self  and excluding the reason you’re their becomes a trauma of its own,

difficult day

Hello,why this blog?

Last year I tried to kill myself .I was stopped and this is a blog on my journey back to survival and I hope back to learning how to live.

Why anonymous, because in contradiction I want to be open about now and my past. Most people I know don’t know about my life to me trying to end my life and I don’t want them to.

I will probably post a couple of times a week.

The plan is to record how I feel everything, how my day  has gone,how my head and  heart feel, the music and reading that help me and my relationship with Samaritans.

Please leave me your comments. Please be kind ,don’t leave comments that are  cruel or unkind to me or others. I can’t guarantee to respond to comments immediately.

IF YOUR FEELING LOUSY AND WANT TO TALK WITH SOMEONE PHONE “ SAMARITANS”.

Phone 08457 909090 ,there a good bunch of people,nothing seems to phase them.

x loopy