God makes beauty from ashes

OMG THIS IS BLISS. This must be what cocaine feels like - just feeling so happy, whole and pretty damn good. No wonder people get addicted. Today is day 3 out of 4 days of rest. As you know (I love you for reading along with me), I've been in a very bad way these last few months. Especially in the last 4 weeks where I've attempted suicide twice. This is dire. I've tried hard to find a new psych (George broke my heart, you have no idea), attend GP appointments to try new anti depressants and keep myself afloat in these 80 foot waves that threaten to do me in. I had a GP appointment on Monday morning where I swallowed my pride and BEGGED to be admitted to a psych ward in a private hospital for the rest of the week. "Please" I sobbed, sitting across from my new GP (I found one I really like AT LAST, Praise God) "I need help" He nodded "I can see that, Janet. Let's get you a referral to Hollywood Clinic" I sighed in relief. I&

I'm sitting here shaking because I'm under SO MUCH PRESSURE. I'm scared, you guys. I'm freaked out because I want to die. I want to kill myself ALL THE TIME and the reason why just boggles my mind - it's because I want to rest. I want to NOT do housework or chores or work in a job. I don't want to be a good friend or a good wife. I don't want to be anything. I want the world to stop so I can get off. But I have to keep fighting because you all love me so much. WHY is beyond me. But you do. So because of that, I have to keep trying to live. Today is the 16th of February. I have until the 24th to make myself better. To fix myself. To fix myself enough that I am strong enough to go back to a full time, demanding job AND to take on all the burdens of my friends, family and especially my husband. Actually, I don't want that to come out wrong, my friends are not burdens. You guys are actually my heart. One of my best friends reached out to me yes

Right. So I go on a 20 minute walk EVERY DAY because EVERYONE says exercise is important. I listen to my friends, look after Alun and water the garden every day because EVERYONE says it's important to care for something other than myself. I try hard to cut back on salty/sugary/fatty foods and I'm pretty rubbish at it but every day, I try. I take my stupid anti-depressants every day. The hospital sends me on random psych/GP appointments every few days and each time it's with a NEW PERSON so I have to start from square one again and again and again. "Hi, nice to meet you. I'm Janet. I'm 42...yes, I've been suffering with suicidal ideation just lately and could really use some help" That psych nods and goes through my very thin file. It's thin because PSYCHS KEEP LOSING IT and having to start over again. THIS INFURIATES ME. I go to my GP appointments and pay a FORTUNE each time to get ignored. I AM SO ANGRY RIGHT NOW THAT I'M S

My heart is so fragile and my thoughts are so dark and askew right now. The smallest thing is enough to tip me over the balance. I didn't want to go into work today so I was up all last night writing 'goodbye' letters to everyone I love. I bought stamps from the post office and wrote to each person with a broken heart. I didn't want them to sound like suicide letters so I wrote as happily and as lovingly as I could. I think it's important what you LEAVE behind and I wanted to leave love. As much love as I could. I put on my favourite pyjamas and I sat next to Alun. In a monotone voice with nothing but the emptiness inside holding me up, I said to Alun: "These are the pjs I want to be buried in" I can't believe I did that to Alun. I can't believe I did that to him. But that's where I was and I wanted him to know. Alun stared straight ahead at the TV. I know he heard me but he didn't say anything. I got up and went to bed. I

I'm the one responsible for my life and 98% of me wants it just to end. I just want to stop. Please. I think the last few months have really battered me. What's killing me now is pure exhaustion. I haven't stopped. I've moved from job to job to job - taking hit after hit after hit and I've kept going. Even when some days it felt like I was crawling through life on my hands and knees, I still kept moving. Every fibre of my being just wants to lay down. Just for a minute. The appointment with "George" broke me. Literally broke my heart. Here's how I expected it would go: I'd go into his office with him. We'd take our seats. He'd say "oh wow - you don't look great" because he takes the time to look at me - to really look at me - and I'd nod. I'd let the tears fall. Finally - someone who's going to listen to me. Someone I can be completely honest with . Praise the Lord. George would ask what's wrong, I

I have been holding it all inside - deep, deep down for so long now that I need to blog. I need to let some of this pain out. On Christmas eve I tried to kill myself by overdosing on panadol. Christmas day was the worst day I've ever had in a long time and the most far I've ever felt from Alun which made it 1000 times harder to cope with. I attempted suicide again last Thursday, but this time, taking 20 x 100mg tablets of anti depressants. In short, it HURT LIKE A BASTARD. My head was throbbing and my kidneys just rang with pain. Same situation, Alun was drunk and miserable so was turning on me. Instead of snapping back at him, I took too many tablets. I went to bed. Delirious. Full of Sertaline. Too many tablets of Sertaline. Drunk Alun fell asleep on the sofa in the living room. How I didn't die is both a great disappointment and concern. I went into work the next day - falling twice as the ground was unsteady beneath me. I JUST TRIED TO KILL MYSELF AN