Dark moments

**PLEASE BE AWARE THIS BLOG POST DISCUSSES SELF HARM AND SUICIDE. PLEASE DO NOT CONTINUE TO READ IF THIS IS LIKELY TO UPSET YOU.  I AM NOT AT IMMEDIATE RISK OF SELF HARM**

 

So this is a hard one to write. But, if I'm not going to use this safe space to be honest then there's really not a lot of point in writing at all. 

I have read that 6 weeks in is a particularly difficult time, and that seems to be the case for me. I'm not actually counting weeks as it is not helpful but I think that's approximately where we are up to. I suppose it comes from the fact that the busy-ness of visitors and funeral plans and solicitors and closing accounts and general sad-min are done and there's nothing left to do but think.

Last night I was sat in the silence of the living room and I began experiencing intrusive thoughts.  It occurred to me that I could end this pain. I could just check out and go.  It was fleeting, and a thought much like thinking what shall I make for dinner? But it came and was scary.  I would and could never do that to Oliver, he needs me, more now than ever.  My finger was hovering over the call button for the Samaritans, when my friend and absolute rock answered a nudge to call me.  I'm clearly being upheld to stop me drowning, but I'm still going under now and again.

I had these thoughts after Bertie died and I really felt I could not live with the pain of it all. But then I had Mark to watch me and steady me and bring me round.  Now, I don't.  I've been busily reassuring my nearest and dearest that I don't feel that way this time, that it is different....but it seems that somewhere deep inside, I do not feel all that different.  Yes it is different, but the pain is still deep and the future is still scary and as I wrote yesterday, I know how long and dark and painful this road is. I just don't want to walk it again.  I don't want to face this future, I did not choose this life.  But I cannot and will not cave in to these thoughts...which is all they are...thoughts. I cannot and will not leave my second son in order to rejoin my fist son and husband.  It's damn scary though that the thought even came. How easy it would be.....

Now I'm angry again. Angry that these thoughts are a part of my psyche. Angry at hm. He chose to check out from his mental prison and make his escape.  And in so doing, he's locked me in mine. 

I have to seek to forgive him. To understand him. To let him go.  And then maybe, just maybe, I can start to truly live again. 

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