Hello….. Again!

Hi!

For those of you who remember me and Silent D, we’re back. Yep, even Silent D is very much alive and kicking – me in the backside!

For those of you who don’t remember us, here’s a little background:

I started a blog named Silent D And Me back in May 2015. The blog centred around my battle with Depression. I wrote rather candidly about my struggle with the eponymous Silent D, and her army of relatives; mainly her sister Stress, and her cousin Suicide.

I have first hand experience with suicidal thoughts and attempts, and I’ve also lost a relative to suicide. I started writing the blog as a way of raising awareness, and getting all the horrible stuff off my chest.

Fast forward to around September 2015, and you will find me hitting the delete button on Silent D And Me.

I called time on the blog, because I didn’t feel that what I had to say (or write) was of any interest to anyone. I convinced myself that my blog was rubbish, and it wasn’t doing what it was supposed to do; nor would it ever do. Nobody would notice it had gone, and more to the point, nobody would care.

Well I was wrong. Surprisingly, people did notice the mysterious disappearance of Silent D And Me. I received messages from friends during their lowest points, asking where my blog was. It appeared that they wanted to read what I had written, when my words were most relevant to their lives.

My response was to brush off the deletion of the blog with a blase, “oh the blog. Yeah I deleted it. It was a pile of shit, and I’m an absolute failure. Lol.”( Note the addition of “lol” at the end of the sentence I was beating myself up with. Typical old me.)

While I got busy making myself busy, to stop the all-consuming thoughts of “this would make a good blog post,” life decided it would show me what a mistake I’d made in deleting my blog – in the form of one of my friends making a serious attempt on her life.

Thankfully, she didn’t succeed. But she’s not yet out of the woods. She sustained some very serious injuries, and she has a very long, tough road ahead of her. But she’s still here. And I’m so glad she is.

I won’t let myself off the hook for not being someone my friend felt she could speak to about how she was feeling. She doesn’t know about my blog, past or present and I can’t help feeling that if she did, she’d realise that beneath my jokey, happy exterior, lies someone who truly understands. When she’s feeling ready to heal her emotional injuries, I’ll introduce her to Silent D And Me.

So yet again, the thief that is suicide has reared it’s ugly head in my life.

It’s time for me to take up arms, once more. I hope Silent D and Co are ready for this.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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I Don’t Want To Be Happy

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I don’t want to be happy, I want to be content. Happiness can be hard to find, but contentment is more attainable, in my opinion. Happiness can be taken away from you. Contentment has more longevity. Happiness is euphoric and can turn the most level headed people into grinning, gushing buffoons. Contentment has a quiet wisdom about it. Granted, there’s no high that happiness brings, but that wears off eventually. Contentment doesn’t arse about with your brain chemistry. In fact, I don’t think the brain is actually involved in the making of contentment. It seems to come from within the ribcage area. I like the sound of that. I’ll have some emotion from my torso, for a change please.  And a coffee. And some cake. Ta very much.
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Hello Darkness, My Old Friend: Part Four

 

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I messaged my sister and asked her if she got home OK. A few hours later, she replied. After some small talk, she asked me if I hated her. What? ! Where did that come from? “Of course I don’t hate you.” I typed. “I’m not trying to guilt trip you, but you broke my heart. I want my sister back.” She replied. Hmm. Which sister? The one who wanted to end her own life? The sister who hid her all consuming pain behind a cheery voice, whenever she called? The sister who’d died inside and was waiting for her body to catch up? The sister she hadn’t seen for two years (prior to the hospital visit), despite only living an hour and half away? The sister she made excuses to, whenever the subject of meeting up arose? The sister she actually didn’t really know? Instead of saying all of this, I just promised to get better. I meant what I said. Continue reading

Hello Darkness, My Old Friend: Part Three

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I was wobbly on my feet. My legs felt like jelly. I was in Intensive Care, so I figured my attempt was a near-success. I didn’t and still don’t remember what happened to me, immediately after I tried to kill myself. Bubbly nurse came back into the room and handed me a scrap of paper. There was a phone number written on it, for my local mental health crisis team. “Here’s the number the psych doctor promised you.” What a joke. Even I knew more phone numbers of organisations to call for support. And what’s more, that knowledge didn’t save me from myself. What did they think a scrap of paper, with one solitary phone number scribbled on it would do? Continue reading

Hello Darkness, My Old Friend: Part Two

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“I’ve been there, Caroline. I’ve been there.” My Dad repeated, his voice heavy with tears. My body felt like it was made of lead. I lifted my hand to my face. I had a breathing tube in my nose. It was tight around my face. I had canulas in both my wrists, and my left foot. The creases behind my elbows were bruised and punctured. Whoever had inserted the canulas, had obviously had a tough battle with my veins. Above my head, monitors beeped and pulsed. My left forefinger burned. I looked at it and saw that I had an oxygen monitor tightly clamped onto it. I felt naked. An ill fitting hospital gown covered the last shred of dignity I had left. Flashbacks of doctors and tubes and nurses flooded my brain. I lost consciousness again. Continue reading