Hey,
It was one of the hardest things I've done in a while - but I went back to work. Praise God, Alun and all of you who love me and encourage me - got me through the first few hours and from then, I just took things as my friend Christabel and I have labelled "minute to minute" - literally ONE MINUTE I will try to get through life...then the next one. That's my life right now - painful 60-second slots.
But (praise God?), I'm still here.
I'm still trying.
One of the things that pushed me over the edge last Sunday - the day of "The incident"...was that I felt I couldn't trust my psych "George" any more. To work so closely with someone for so long (over 2 years now)...means that the 2 of you build up a relationship. It may be a working one - or in our case - a "therapeutical" relationship - but even so, you can't help but naturally build a bond.
When George was in a really bad mood and took it out on me that Tuesday - memories of it and how betrayed and lost I felt because of it - really affected me the following Sunday. I talked to my friends Marc and Christabel about it and they both said the same thing "Give him another chance".
I guess 2 years of putting up with me earned George that, at least - right?
So I made plans to work through my lunch hour and leave work an hour early so I could attend my psych appointment.
I was so anxious as I was walking up to the front door of George's clinic.
What was I going to say? Would I be able to pull it off without completely falling apart? Was what we had broken now and not able to be fixed?
I was still so hurt from the last time that I struggled to just open the front door to the Clinic.
Deep breaths, JD. You promised Marc and Christabel that you would try - so you have to try.
I guess George wanted to try, too - because he was there to collect me 5 minutes early.
He offered his usual 'bunched up cheeks' smile that I have come to really love.
I was still hurting and only managed a wobbly face as a returned greeting.
Tears were welling up as we walked the corridor to our 'usual' room.
George sat in his seat. I moved mine further away from him than it originally was. I usually move it closer and we have the same joke every time about "how close do you need to be?". this time, I was sure he was going to hurt me and I wanted as much space from that as possible.
George noticed and raised his eyebrows in question.
I bit my lip and didn't say anything.
"So how are you travelling since we last saw each other?" George asked. He was using his 'gentle yet firm and highly professional' voice. I hadn't heard this in so long that it hurt me to know he was treading carefully.
Did he think I was nuts? Was he being cautious to hurt me?
"I'm not" I answered. My body betrayed me and tears fell in great, heavy rivers down my face. I didn't wipe them away. I just stared at the floor.
It was so quiet for so long that I counted almost 2 full minutes in seconds as they 'tick tick ticked' on the clock on the wall.
Finally, George spoke again "What has happened since last we met?"
You broke my heart, George. That's what.
Instead, I just sniffed and wiped my snotty nose on my jumper. George grimaced.
I don't care if you think I'm gross. I'm at the end of my rope here, mate.
"Last session...was..." George let the words hang in the air.
A complete bastard. That's what it was. You smashed me when I was already so broken. I trusted you!!! Why did you do that?!?
I bit my lip to stop it from shaking. My arms were joining in with shaking so I folded them across my chest to keep them still. The effort of just trying to control my body was making my muscles ache.
Keep it together, JD. Keep. It. Together.
"it was a tough session" George finally spoke again.
Tough?!?
That's how your'e going to describe it?!?
"It was" I agreed out loud.
"how did you feel about it?" George carefully asked.
"It was pretty sh*t to be honest" I finally admitted.
I rarely swear. George's eyebrows went up again.
"Why do you say that?" he asked - gently. Carefully.
"Because it was as if we were butting heads. I felt like I was screaming and you were covering your ears and deliberately shutting me out. I shouldn't have been so out of control but you're the professional here - you shouldn't have taken your bad day out on me"
I can't believe I actually said what I felt!
Oh Lord.
Now what would happen?
George linked his hands together and lowered his head. He considered what I said.
"You felt as if I was shutting you out?" He suggested
"You were" I said - and an outpouring of hurt and betrayal ran down my face. My throat was squeezing so tight it was hurting me. My chest was crying out for oxygen because I hold my breath when I'm scared or upset.
This was so incredibly painful.
"I basically bullied you, Janet..." George said "...and I was wrong to do that"
Well.
This unexpected turn of events was a shock.
I hiccupped.
George gently pushed a tissue box towards me.
Okay George. I get it. Stop wiping my nose on my sleeve.
Because George wasn't confrontational and because he apologised - the walls I put up crumbled down. But then so did the tight rope I was holding myself together with.
I just completely fell apart. I talked. I let it out - ALL OF IT. It took ages. It was so painful. So truthful So raw. George frowned. He clicked his pen and wrote frantically as I spoke. He never does that.
After what felt like hours, George said "this is the worst I've ever seen you, Janet - I will tell you honestly - I'm scared. I don't know what to do here"
Well sh*t.
If you can't help me - where do I go from here?!?
I shrugged.
Typical. Not even George can help me.
"I'm really, really worried" George said "I don't think I can let you leave this office on your own"
This was new, too.
I wasn't sure I liked where this was going.
"But...our hour is up" I reminded him.
"It was up an hour ago" George replied. "I wanted to keep you talking because you needed to let it out"
"Are you going to be okay?" George asked
"No" I admitted truthfully.
"What they don't tell you about, George" I went on - mouth hurting as I spoke the words I'd been carrying like heavy bricks in my gut "is that there isn't just life and death. There is a horrible, painful, black pit just before death - where you just wait and hope to die...that's where I live right now - in that horrible in-between world of just waiting for your heart to stop. I just want to die. Please"
George nodded "tell me more"
"I'm at the point where I know nothing will help me. If someone gave me 20 million dollars, I will still be considering how thick a rope has to be to really kill me today. Not to injure me - I need it to be final"
"Final? Like..." George prompted.
"Like...I need to be well and truly dead. I can't just be injured and I would HATE - absolutely HATE to fail and have to have Alun have to care for me the rest of his life. If I jump from a building - it has to be at least 30 floors high - so that I don't just paralyse or injure myself - I need to die. If I cut myself - it won't be by slashing my wrists because there is a chance I might live through that. No. I have to stab myself in the middle of my heart so that there is no coming back from that. I won't take a handful of tablets like last time...I need to take hundreds of them. And I need to be smart about it - I need to not try to swallow them one at a time and end up too full to take more...no. What I need to do is take AS MANY TABLETS AS I CAN GET MY HANDS ON, crush them up with a mortar and pestle into a fine powder - and then stir them into ONE drink and gulp it down as fast as I can. No more messing about. I have to do this and I have to do it well"
George gulped. He'd lost colour in his face.
This is the first time I've seen him like this. Scared.
"Listen...Janet..." he began "I'm really, really worried about you. I want you to consider going to the hospital from this office...can I call an ambulance? I will wait right here with you until it arrives"
And as he was speaking - I was imagining the bliss of freeing myself from this constant pain, sadness, shame and guilt...this constant self hatred that is so strong it propels me forward towards death and makes living even harder than I ever thought possible.
How nice it would be to just...stop.
"Janet?"
How nice it would be to just...rest
"Can you hear me?"
I wish I was dead right now, actually.
"Janet?" George physically moved closer and waved his hand in front of my face.
"hello" I squeaked out. Talking was so hard. I'd been holding my breath again so I barely had enough left in me to make a word come out.
"Please Janet - please go to hospital" George pleaded.
My mind flashed to the last time I was there - surrounded by crazy, screaming, shouting people. People scratching themselves, calling themselves "god", crying out and trying to hit me as they walked by.
It's a NO from me. I never want to go through that hell again.
I literally would rather die.
"They're all nuts in there, George" I said "Don't put me in there with them - I won't come out alive"
George considered this.
I considered a peaceful rest from it all - death was a glowing 'exit' sign in my life of pain and sadness.
"How about this, then - how about I call Alun and if I know you're in his care, I can let you go"
I nodded.
Go on then. I will just kill myself later. Alun can't watch me 24/7, can he?
So George did again - something he's never done before - he asked to lend my phone and he called Alun.
Alun arrived in what seemed like seconds.
He and George talked.
I phased out and just wanted it all to stop. Just for a minute. No more, please - I can't take it.
Alun took me home.
I made myself - from one 60-second slot to the next - keep living. For Alun who was so broken and bruised by my depression. For George - who called every hour through the night to check on us both - even though I'm sure he finished work at 5pm and didn't have to do this. For you - because you believe in me when I don't believe in myself.
I made myself go to work. I made myself work. I made myself move - inch by inch - forward - and I turned my back on that lovely green 'exit' and am still in incredible pain.
THIS IS SO HARD.
I'm doing it for you.
It was one of the hardest things I've done in a while - but I went back to work. Praise God, Alun and all of you who love me and encourage me - got me through the first few hours and from then, I just took things as my friend Christabel and I have labelled "minute to minute" - literally ONE MINUTE I will try to get through life...then the next one. That's my life right now - painful 60-second slots.
But (praise God?), I'm still here.
I'm still trying.
One of the things that pushed me over the edge last Sunday - the day of "The incident"...was that I felt I couldn't trust my psych "George" any more. To work so closely with someone for so long (over 2 years now)...means that the 2 of you build up a relationship. It may be a working one - or in our case - a "therapeutical" relationship - but even so, you can't help but naturally build a bond.
When George was in a really bad mood and took it out on me that Tuesday - memories of it and how betrayed and lost I felt because of it - really affected me the following Sunday. I talked to my friends Marc and Christabel about it and they both said the same thing "Give him another chance".
I guess 2 years of putting up with me earned George that, at least - right?
So I made plans to work through my lunch hour and leave work an hour early so I could attend my psych appointment.
I was so anxious as I was walking up to the front door of George's clinic.
What was I going to say? Would I be able to pull it off without completely falling apart? Was what we had broken now and not able to be fixed?
I was still so hurt from the last time that I struggled to just open the front door to the Clinic.
Deep breaths, JD. You promised Marc and Christabel that you would try - so you have to try.
I guess George wanted to try, too - because he was there to collect me 5 minutes early.
He offered his usual 'bunched up cheeks' smile that I have come to really love.
I was still hurting and only managed a wobbly face as a returned greeting.
Tears were welling up as we walked the corridor to our 'usual' room.
George sat in his seat. I moved mine further away from him than it originally was. I usually move it closer and we have the same joke every time about "how close do you need to be?". this time, I was sure he was going to hurt me and I wanted as much space from that as possible.
George noticed and raised his eyebrows in question.
I bit my lip and didn't say anything.
"So how are you travelling since we last saw each other?" George asked. He was using his 'gentle yet firm and highly professional' voice. I hadn't heard this in so long that it hurt me to know he was treading carefully.
Did he think I was nuts? Was he being cautious to hurt me?
"I'm not" I answered. My body betrayed me and tears fell in great, heavy rivers down my face. I didn't wipe them away. I just stared at the floor.
It was so quiet for so long that I counted almost 2 full minutes in seconds as they 'tick tick ticked' on the clock on the wall.
Finally, George spoke again "What has happened since last we met?"
You broke my heart, George. That's what.
Instead, I just sniffed and wiped my snotty nose on my jumper. George grimaced.
I don't care if you think I'm gross. I'm at the end of my rope here, mate.
"Last session...was..." George let the words hang in the air.
A complete bastard. That's what it was. You smashed me when I was already so broken. I trusted you!!! Why did you do that?!?
I bit my lip to stop it from shaking. My arms were joining in with shaking so I folded them across my chest to keep them still. The effort of just trying to control my body was making my muscles ache.
Keep it together, JD. Keep. It. Together.
"it was a tough session" George finally spoke again.
Tough?!?
That's how your'e going to describe it?!?
"It was" I agreed out loud.
"how did you feel about it?" George carefully asked.
"It was pretty sh*t to be honest" I finally admitted.
I rarely swear. George's eyebrows went up again.
"Why do you say that?" he asked - gently. Carefully.
"Because it was as if we were butting heads. I felt like I was screaming and you were covering your ears and deliberately shutting me out. I shouldn't have been so out of control but you're the professional here - you shouldn't have taken your bad day out on me"
I can't believe I actually said what I felt!
Oh Lord.
Now what would happen?
George linked his hands together and lowered his head. He considered what I said.
"You felt as if I was shutting you out?" He suggested
"You were" I said - and an outpouring of hurt and betrayal ran down my face. My throat was squeezing so tight it was hurting me. My chest was crying out for oxygen because I hold my breath when I'm scared or upset.
This was so incredibly painful.
"I basically bullied you, Janet..." George said "...and I was wrong to do that"
Well.
This unexpected turn of events was a shock.
I hiccupped.
George gently pushed a tissue box towards me.
Okay George. I get it. Stop wiping my nose on my sleeve.
Because George wasn't confrontational and because he apologised - the walls I put up crumbled down. But then so did the tight rope I was holding myself together with.
I just completely fell apart. I talked. I let it out - ALL OF IT. It took ages. It was so painful. So truthful So raw. George frowned. He clicked his pen and wrote frantically as I spoke. He never does that.
After what felt like hours, George said "this is the worst I've ever seen you, Janet - I will tell you honestly - I'm scared. I don't know what to do here"
Well sh*t.
If you can't help me - where do I go from here?!?
I shrugged.
Typical. Not even George can help me.
"I'm really, really worried" George said "I don't think I can let you leave this office on your own"
This was new, too.
I wasn't sure I liked where this was going.
"But...our hour is up" I reminded him.
"It was up an hour ago" George replied. "I wanted to keep you talking because you needed to let it out"
"Are you going to be okay?" George asked
"No" I admitted truthfully.
"What they don't tell you about, George" I went on - mouth hurting as I spoke the words I'd been carrying like heavy bricks in my gut "is that there isn't just life and death. There is a horrible, painful, black pit just before death - where you just wait and hope to die...that's where I live right now - in that horrible in-between world of just waiting for your heart to stop. I just want to die. Please"
George nodded "tell me more"
"I'm at the point where I know nothing will help me. If someone gave me 20 million dollars, I will still be considering how thick a rope has to be to really kill me today. Not to injure me - I need it to be final"
"Final? Like..." George prompted.
"Like...I need to be well and truly dead. I can't just be injured and I would HATE - absolutely HATE to fail and have to have Alun have to care for me the rest of his life. If I jump from a building - it has to be at least 30 floors high - so that I don't just paralyse or injure myself - I need to die. If I cut myself - it won't be by slashing my wrists because there is a chance I might live through that. No. I have to stab myself in the middle of my heart so that there is no coming back from that. I won't take a handful of tablets like last time...I need to take hundreds of them. And I need to be smart about it - I need to not try to swallow them one at a time and end up too full to take more...no. What I need to do is take AS MANY TABLETS AS I CAN GET MY HANDS ON, crush them up with a mortar and pestle into a fine powder - and then stir them into ONE drink and gulp it down as fast as I can. No more messing about. I have to do this and I have to do it well"
George gulped. He'd lost colour in his face.
This is the first time I've seen him like this. Scared.
"Listen...Janet..." he began "I'm really, really worried about you. I want you to consider going to the hospital from this office...can I call an ambulance? I will wait right here with you until it arrives"
And as he was speaking - I was imagining the bliss of freeing myself from this constant pain, sadness, shame and guilt...this constant self hatred that is so strong it propels me forward towards death and makes living even harder than I ever thought possible.
How nice it would be to just...stop.
"Janet?"
How nice it would be to just...rest
"Can you hear me?"
I wish I was dead right now, actually.
"Janet?" George physically moved closer and waved his hand in front of my face.
"hello" I squeaked out. Talking was so hard. I'd been holding my breath again so I barely had enough left in me to make a word come out.
"Please Janet - please go to hospital" George pleaded.
My mind flashed to the last time I was there - surrounded by crazy, screaming, shouting people. People scratching themselves, calling themselves "god", crying out and trying to hit me as they walked by.
It's a NO from me. I never want to go through that hell again.
I literally would rather die.
"They're all nuts in there, George" I said "Don't put me in there with them - I won't come out alive"
George considered this.
I considered a peaceful rest from it all - death was a glowing 'exit' sign in my life of pain and sadness.
"How about this, then - how about I call Alun and if I know you're in his care, I can let you go"
I nodded.
Go on then. I will just kill myself later. Alun can't watch me 24/7, can he?
So George did again - something he's never done before - he asked to lend my phone and he called Alun.
Alun arrived in what seemed like seconds.
He and George talked.
I phased out and just wanted it all to stop. Just for a minute. No more, please - I can't take it.
Alun took me home.
I made myself - from one 60-second slot to the next - keep living. For Alun who was so broken and bruised by my depression. For George - who called every hour through the night to check on us both - even though I'm sure he finished work at 5pm and didn't have to do this. For you - because you believe in me when I don't believe in myself.
I made myself go to work. I made myself work. I made myself move - inch by inch - forward - and I turned my back on that lovely green 'exit' and am still in incredible pain.
THIS IS SO HARD.
I'm doing it for you.
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