Day 2 on the psych ward

I’d really, really like to shave my armpits. It’s amazing how fast that hair grows. I can deal with the spidery legs, but the armpits make me feel grim. I noticed this because I had a bath tonight. I had a bath because the shower in my room doesn’t work and can’t be fixed for…

So I am back in the loony bin

It’s not a very complicated story. I went to the pub after therapy on Wednesday afternoon. At the bottom of the second double, I decided I’d kill myself. The decision was impulsive, but the urge had been hanging around for months. I wanted to go somewhere I wouldn’t be found until it was too late….

Therapy today: A slow motion car crash

I wasn’t looking forward to therapy today. I knew the chances were J would want me to talk more about the events of last week. On Wednesday I had downed a load of Vodka and Lorazepam. Due to the amnesia overdosing on Lorazepam brings, I don’t really remember what I’d said to J on the…

Thursday therapy: My dad

I felt too cruddy after therapy yesterday to write about it. It is almost like I’m actually better off if I don’t have therapy at all. I was in a bad mood all day, but tolerably bad. Having worked at home all morning, I knew my grey mood was most likely linked to not seeing…

I didn’t want to die

I’ve never had a great deal of sympathy for people who took an overdose without intending to commit suicide. It always seemed like a very dramatic way to express yourself. I didn’t get that ‘cry for help’ concept, it just seemed like attention seeking. That probably sounds callous, and I suppose it was. It came…

I got away with it

I had a phone call yesterday She used warm words to tell me I got away with it Punctuating the conversation with condescention Stony judgement reverberated in her pauses. It shouldn’t sting, she doesn’t know me. Maybe someone she loved took their own life She could have had some bad news Or perhaps she hasn’t…