Overdosing on Lorazepam leaves you with terrible amnesia. I have no recollection of being at the hospital this weekend. I don’t remember the ambulance ride, blood tests, IVs and ECGs. I don’t even remember arriving home. I only just found the photo I’ve attached to this post, I didn’t realise I had my phone on me.

When I awoke in my own bed yesterday morning, I was relieved. I honestly thought it had all been an awful dream and I’d been safe in bed all along. But then I spotted the red hospital band with my name and date of birth stamped on it. Dread washed over me. I had done it again.

I woke up my wife and she attempted to narrate the events of the previous 36 hours. When she had arrived home on Friday evening I was barely conscious. She originally thought I was just drunk but managed to get me to admit I had taken pills too. Having no idea what or how many, she called Paramedics.

I was quickly transferred to the hospital and given a room of my own. I was hallucinating and distressed. That’s all I can remember, even now, I just remember being freaked out because I didn’t know what was real and what was in my head. My wife was allowed to stay with me all night, which must have alleviated my distress somewhat. The doctors gave me the all clear and I was assessed by the psychiatric liaison. I don’t remember any of that.

All I know now is that I feel like crap. I’m nauseous, my head is pounding and all I want to do is sleep. I am deeply, deeply disappointed in myself. Most of all I am so gutted I have put my wife through all this again. She is the kindest, most wonderful person and she doesn’t deserve this. I loathe myself for dragging her through it. I loathe myself for not using all the channels open to me and reaching out for help. I loathe myself for being so weak and for reneging on the promises I made to myself and those who care for me.

I feel utterly worthless.