I came home unexpectedly today. A few nights ago, I woke up unexpectedly in hospital after having taken what I thought was a fatal overdose. The combination of a lengthy depressive episode and a bad living situation that I can’t escape got to be too much for me, and I attempted to end my life. Yet now I’m here, typing a blog post I never thought I’d write on a day I never thought I’d see.
Even though the attempt didn’t work, I hurt a great deal of people. Most of all, I hurt my FOC. These are the people who taught me family and who expect me to be there for them. I let them down, and I’ll have to live with that. How do you apologise enough? How do you win back the trust of those who never deserved to be put in this situation? How do you learn to live with the guilt? I’m wrestling with these questions now. Nothing I can do will make up for what I put people through, but I’ll do my best.
There’s also therapy– loads of it. I’m having daily sessions, at least by phone, and working hard at setting things right. It will take a while; I’m not completely happy to be here yet. I can, however, say that I’m not a danger to myself. My therapist told me to hold on to the feeling of pain brought on by putting my FOC through this, and that is a great motivator for staying alive. In the past, it’s always been enough to see me through. This time, however, my current situation won out. My FOC do *not* deserve this.
I’m not sure how to move forward from here. Slowly, of course, but the path is unclear. I’ve given my word to two of the most important people in my FOC for the first time, and I keep my word. Suicide is no longer an option. In a strange sense, that leaves me feeling helpless. What can I do if things get to be too much again? That question might well go unanswered for a bit. Much therapy yet to come.
So I’m here. And I’m working on it. For now, that’s all I can do.