Why We NEED To Talk

TW: contains mild references to suicidal ideation.

I though it would be fitting to write this post today, because it is #timetotalk day, a day that aims to raise awareness of mental illness, encouraging people to talk and, ultimately, end the stigma surrounding MH.

From each of my previous two posts, Pill Phobia and More Thoughts, it is evident that, although not actively suicidal, I have been struggling with some pretty intrusive thoughts and urges.  In fact, on Tuesday, I came within an inch of doing something pretty dangerous, something that could have ended my life, whether that was my intention or not.  I won’t go back over this now – you can catch up above.

Obviously, since I’m sitting here writing this post, I managed not to do anything impulsive or irrational.  What I did manage to do, however, was contact my cousin who is my main (only) form of support outside MH services.  I let her know what I was thinking and how I was feeling, but refrained from divulging anything too detailed or that could potentially upset her.  She was, after all, at work.  But she kept close contact with me all day, she phoned when she could and sent endless text messages, validating my feelings, urging me to hang on and reassuring me that I ‘could do this’.

As well as being my confidante, my rock, my best friend, she is also the only ‘real life’ person with unlimited access to my blog.  THAT is what saved me this week, because my blog is my private space where I vent, uncensored, no detail spared.  Upon returning home from work on Tuesday evening, my cousin happened to open my blog and catch the previous two posts – noted above.  THIS is what really allowed her access to my mind and how it was working on Tuesday, the enormity of what I was thinking, that I was displaying suicidal tendencies.  She immediately contacted me to ensure I was still safe, established that I would be safe for the duration of the evening and dictated that she would make me an appointment to see my GP the following morning, at which I would hand over the Propranolol and explain what it had triggered in me.

So she did, and I did and I am still here.  The GP was apologetic, concerned that he should have thought a bit more carefully about prescribing this particular medication.  But I don’t blame him…I though nothing of taking and filling the prescription.  The tablets didn’t start taunting me until they were a material thing in my hands.  No one was to know.

So this is the conclusion to my prior blog pieces.  And it is why I think it really is #timetotalk.  It doesn’t have to be verbally.  If all you can manage is a text message, or an email, or a blog post then that’s ok.  Just make sure it reaches the right person/people, those who can provide practical assistance.  I know for sure, had I not ‘talked’ on Tuesday, I would have more than likely swallowed those tablets and ended up seeking medical assistance for very different reasons on Wednesday.

Useful link: Time To Change


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