…. You get two calls to the crisis team in before supper*
I’m going to have to issue one of those ‘trigger warnings’ now. I don’t want to upset anybody or put them in a bad place so please bow out now if you are vulnerable about – self harm, suicide attempts, weird food stuff or mental madness in general.
Is there anybody left? Are you sure? This is quite long and not very cheery until the very end….
So, yeah, self harm, suicide attempts, weird food stuff and a bit of mental madness to boot. I have some larks don’t I?
For three or four days my brain was on best behaviour. I managed to trick it into playing a game of ‘let’s just try really, really hard for a while and see what happens’ and it worked until my brain decided it wasn’t going along with that anymore. As brain quite rightly pointed out, what’s the point of trying really, really hard if you end up where you always do anyway (which, for the record, is curled up in a teeny tiny ball trying desperately not to make plans to end your life sometime soon)?
I had a rotten dream last night. I could have done without it because when I woke up and remembered it (at just gone three am this morning) it stirred up some stuff that most definitely didn’t need stirring. I guess everyone has stuff that doesn’t need stirring – I’ve got a lot of it and if I have learned only one thing about stirring stuff that doesn’t need stirring it’s that if you absolutely have to stir it you should NEVER EVER do it between the hours of 10pm and 7am because of the golden rule of safe stirring: stirring is not be done when it is quiet and everyone else is asleep.
Thankfully (maybe) not everyone was asleep because there was my local friendly crisis team – on call 24/7 for my every mental madness emergency. So I phoned them up and told them I’d broken the golden rule of safe stirring and was now going a bit mental.
We tried to work out ‘what had gotten into me’ but for some reason (I don’t know which reason) I didn’t tell them the whole truth. I told them I wasn’t hungry and there was nothing obviously dangerous in the flat. Two breaths, two pointless lies. Why? Just why?
The truth was that I wasn’t hungry but starving hungry having eaten nothing but a bag of Doritos all day. Actually, here’s another rule for you. If you absolutely have to be mental, avoid being starving and mental at the same time AT ALL COSTS. It’s rubbish. Truly rubbish.
Why hadn’t I eaten anything all day? I decided not to. That was it. I just decided and once I’m decided on something like that I’m totally decided. The theory goes is that I use deciding not to eat in order to punish myself somehow. I don’t know if that’s it but it’s as good a theory as any, so I guess I have to go with it. Why didn’t I tell the nice crisis support people that I hadn’t eaten? Because I didn’t want to. I wanted to keep it all to myself.
Why was there something dangerous in the flat? Well there wasn’t – not in the ‘usual’ sense which is really just to say that I hadn’t deliberately brought anything into the flat in order to deliberately hurt myself. But a girl’s got to shave her legs, right? So there were ‘the emergency disposable razors’, which were not intended to be dangerous but which could be with a little determination) And I didn’t tell the crisis team chaps about them because this was an emergency and I had all the determination I needed. I was mental and angry and frightened and, in all honesty, I didn’t want anyone to talk me down. I dismantled the disposable razors with relative ease and bob’s your uncle, fanny’s your aunt…. I hurt myself. It hurt and made me feel small and foolish and even more frightened. It was supposed to make it better – it was supposed to get rid of whatever it was that had gotten in to me.
A period of pacing commenced. I felt like I was waiting for something. I don’t know what – maybe it was the thing I thought was going to happen the other day? I decided to curl up and do my waiting on the couch. It started to get light and I wondered if that was what I was waiting for – morning, because everything is better in the morning? Except it isn’t – it’s exactly the same. Every single lousy morning is exactly the same (that was broken brain’s take on it by the way).
I tried the crisis team again because I didn’t think I was going to make it. They suggested diazepam (another emergency ration, but GP approved unlike the disposable razors) and if I couldn’t do that (I’m scared of diazepam because it’s habit forming) it was ‘maybe time to think about coming in’.
Okay. So I thought about ‘coming in’ and dismissed that because I felt more mental than I’d ever felt before and decided that if I went in, I’d probably never get out again. I didn’t want that to happen. So I carried on waiting. Waiting and thinking. It all got a bit boo hoo and grizzly.
And then there was an epiphany moment in WeeGee’s broken brain. What I was waiting for was…. the last day WeeGee would ever spend on Earth. Not only that – I’d made it. No more waiting! Today was the day.
Once I had decided that this was the last day that WeeGee would spend on the planet things got a bit easier. There are things you need to organise if you’re about to bow out like making sure ‘the box’ is in order. ‘The box’ lives on top of my wardrobe and has a copy of my will, bank account details, information that my parents need about probate, insurance document, strict instructions about dealing with The Cat, a couple of photos and some letters. Ever since I got hit by a bus** I’ve been paranoid about making things as easy as possible for my loved ones if I check out early – whether at my own hand or by an act of god. ‘The box’ was in order.
I had a shower and got ready. It took a while to decide what I was going to wear but in the end I settled on the skirt I wanted to be buried in (don’t ask – it’s stupid). I fed the little man and then fed him again. I think that was guilt. And then I headed to the outside world to purchase a tin of Heinz tomato soup and 32 painkillers. It’s a bit dangerous that I know that there is a shop within walking distance that sells painkillers 32 at a time. I see that now but I don’t know how to ‘unknow’ it. That is a problem for another day.
I got back – opened the curtains (because no-one wants to spend their last moments on planet Earth in the dark) and heated up the soup. Heinz tomato soup isn’t much of a last supper is it? All I can say is that if you have decided that this is the last day you will spend on planet earth YOU ARE CLEARLY NOT OF YOUR RIGHT MIND and are almost certainly in no fit state to decide what your last meal should be.
I washed up and emptied the bins and then fed Gryff again. A lot of food this time in case I wasn’t found for days. And then I sat staring at a box of 32 painkillers for a very long time. First of all I put them very far away from me, and gradually I brought them closer until they were right in front of my face. And I looked at them for another very long time.
By this time Gryff was sitting in ‘croissant cat’ position looking at me looking at the painkillers. And I came all over all soppy. I thought about the worst life night of my life ever (which was also the worst night of Gryff’s life) and how when I finally got to bed that night be had jumped up, burrowed under the covers and curled up next to my tummy and stayed there all night to stay safe and to keep me safe. And I wondered who he would curl up with to be safe when he realised that I, the only person he ever trusted, wasn’t coming back. And then I thought about Mr Friendly, and Mr Wise, Mrs Worry and Mr Hilarious who would all, in their own ways, blame themselves even though it was nothing to do with them. And I thought about my mum who would never, ever be able to understand no matter hard she tried.
And then I thought FOR FUCK’S SAKE
GAIL WEEGEE. Are you really going to top yourself BECAUSE YOU HAD A BAD DREAM? After everything that happened and everything you bounced back from? Seriously! What is the matter with you……. PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER.
‘Pull yourself together’ is not something you should ever say to someone with mental health problems. But, if you yourself are mental you are allowed to say it to yourself. Not because it will make it all better but because it will stop it all getting worse. Sometimes that is all you can hope for – things not getting worse.
Where am I now? I’m mostly back. I’m fed and watered and safe. I’m playing ‘let’s just try really, really hard for a while and see what happens’ once more. It’s the only game I’ve ever been any good at.
Love from WeeGee xx
PS – I re-read this one and realised that it’s a bit wonky and meandering and mental. Sorry. But you know me 🙂
*Dinner if you aren’t pretentious like me. Or tea if you are from The North
**Which is a whole ‘nother story!