January 14 – 18, 2023 marked the five year anniversary of my suicide attempt and hospital admission. The past week has been quite reflective for me looking back on what drove me to that point but also how far I have come in learning to look after myself, making sure my own tank is full before trying to give help to others.

¹⁶ He then reached down from heaven,
all the way from the sky to the sea.
He reached down into my darkness to rescue me!
He took me out of my calamity and chaos
and drew me to himself,
taking me from the depths of my despair!
¹⁷ Even though I was helpless in the hands
of my hateful strong enemy,
you were good to deliver me.
¹⁸ When I was at my weakest, my enemies attacked-
but the Lord held onto me.
¹⁹ His love broke open the way
and he brought me into a beautiful broad place.
He rescued me-because his delight is in me!

 – Psalm 18:16-19 Poetry on Fire: The Psalms

These verses spoke so clearly to me when I read them for the first time a few months after my suicide attempt. I don’t remember much of the 36ish hours following my unplanned intentional mixed pill overdose on that Sunday evening in January 2018 but when I read these verses I had a vision of my near dead form on the bathroom floor and the hand of Jesus pulling my back to life.

So many things drove me to that point. It started with my father attacking my mother and nearly strangling her to death in May 2009, my brother being sectioned in July 2009 (and again in 2011, 2012 and 2016), my sister having an abusive husband, my mom’s long list of health issues for which I was her primary carer for a long time and not to mention my own problems with harassment and bullying in the work place. The final straw was an argument with my mother about my brother. We were getting the final bits of furniture for my brothers new sheltered accommodation. One piece of furniture being the main issue. While talking about it in the car on the way home, mom didn’t like what I had to say and unbuckled her seat belt and opened the car door while I was still driving. She insisted I stop the car, which I did. She got out and I drove off. I called my sister, who had mom’s car, and told her to go and pick her up.

Later that night around 22:30 after a number of back and forth conversations with my mom and her not seeing my point as usual I went to the kitchen, made a cup of tea and began to take tablets. I took mixed pill overdose of 178 tablets in total. As I said already the next 24 to 36 hours were a blur. I vaguely remember telling my sister what I had done but she didn’t even bother to come and check on me. I drove myself to the GP and then later to A&E on the Tuesday afternoon where I was triaged, blood work done, an ECG and had to speak to the crisis psychiatric team. I remember the crisis psychiatry nurse asking me why I didn’t call an ambulance and I told her that it was a stupid question because I didn’t want to be alive (at that moment anyway) so why would I have called for help? My sister was in the room with me then and got really upset. She left the room and later the hospital and haven’t spoken to her since. I understand it was hard for her but of all people I thought she would have understood having attempted to take her own life too but the difference was that I didn’t (and still don’t) regret what I did. My sister saw it as selfish that I didn’t think of anyone else. My mom also came to the hospital. Her first words when she saw me were: “We don;t have a relationship. I’m not here because I care about you.” Well talk about a contradiction especially since it was the argument with her two days before that tipped me over the edge. She left with my sister so I was there on my own.

I spent 48 hours in hospital to be treated for the paracetamol overdose. I was fortunate to have had no other damage internal organ damage from the pill combination. I still remember the doctor reading my notes and blood work and shaking his head later telling me it was a miracle that I had survived.

There is so much shame and stigma around suicide. While it is hard for those left behind, unless you’ve actually been in that situation of wanting things to end I don’t think you can fully understand or empathise with the situation fully. We all know the “reach out if you need to talk or in a dark place” but having been in that situation myself those platitudes would not have reached me that night. I was adamant in that moment that I did not want to be here. I had no thought of anything other than making the pain end – not of family, not of my sponsored children I had at that time, nothing.

Having survived my attempt with the support of close friends and some great people in the NHS I can now say I am so glad I failed. In fact I count it as my best ever failure. I also think it is more important too that we focus on making people feel valued for who they are as people and not what they can do, moving away from the “think about the people you will leave behind” and more to the “this world needs your unique gifts”

For months afterwards I was completely numb about the whole thing. I wasn’t planning to try again but I was also not wanting to be around. It was a weird feeling. And then came Easter that year and while standing in line to go see an Easter Service in Central London I actually said the word’s and meant them: “I’m glad it didn’t work.” I felt like a ship at sea being battered by waves tossed hither and thither. But I learned something about ships, they need wind and waves to be able to move forward.

I’ve learned a lot over the last 5 years. The biggest lesson being that self-care is not selfish but essential to being able to maintain a healthy mind and body. I’ve taken up art going to workshops when I can. I do Pilates twice a week, have regular massage and reflexology treatments and try as often as possible to do days out or weekends away.

I’m also learning to put in better boundaries and not to second guess myself when I stick to them. This included cutting off contact with my mom. Yes, family is important but if the relationships are toxic or not good for our mental health then we should be celebrating people making those very difficult decisions. Often times they are years in the making and not made on the spur of the moment. It certainly was the case with me.

I’ve also learned that people’s reactions to me say more about them and their own insecurities and issues than it does about me. And likewise my reactions are more about me than the thing I am reacting to (something I am working on in therapy). I used to take things really personally, like there was something wrong with me. As I have learned in therapy and through my own reading I’ve come to realise that while some of it does come down to who I am for the most part it is down to the trauma I have experienced in my life. I continue to work through this every day and every day I get stronger and better. And on the days I fail I’m learning to be kinder to myself, seeing it as a learning and experience to help me grow.

So on this 5th anniversary of my failed attempt I can say wholeheartedly that I don’t regret what I did BUT I am so very glad to still be walking this earth