… All my troubles seemed so far away. Now it looks as if there here to stay.
Thanks to Paul, John, George and Ringo for those very accurate lyrics.
Actually, they aren’t all that accurate though. My problems were as bad yesteday as they are today, if not worse. I did a lot of things yesterday which hurt, upset, scared, worried and angered me yesterday.
As promised to myself, by myself, I went on a nice long walk yesterday morning. I caught the tube and got off at Embankment whereupon I crossed the Thames and walked all the way along the South Bank to London Bridge. Past the OXO Tower (where I always wanted to live as a kid), past Tate Modern, through a closed up Borough Market up the steps by Guys Hospital and back on the tube at London Bridge. I lied when I said it was a nice walk, it would have been lovely if it hadn’t been so busy, but then what did I expect on a Sunday morning? It was full of the energetic, fitness freaks running and French/American/Japanese tourists taking photos of everything from St. Paul’s Cathedral to the book market underneath Southwark Bridge. All in all I enjoyed it, for the fresh air and peace to myself, but it wasn’t as nice as I thought it would be.
So I decided to go to another one of my old haunts. I have a lot of old haunts stored in my brain for places in the city I can escape to and have time to myself (South Bank, Little Venice, Regent’s Park, Alexandra Palace… to name a few. They may be obvious and quite stereotypical but they are places I love) and I decided this was the time to search out a second one. I went up to Little Venice. I got off the tube at Camden and walked along the canal towpath, past Regent’s Park Zoo (where I haven’t been for years), past Paddington and Maida Vale and ended up in Little Venice, which equally wasn’t as nice as I thought it would be so I decided to walk back to Paddington station and go home.
Whereupon my depressed, quite melancholy mood, for no apparent reason, just plunged. I ended up walking into Superdrug and buying blades, bandages and gauze; which I haven’t done for ages and promised myself when I came out of hospital I wouldn’t. I then thought I needed to go somewhere quiet to cut myself so wandered off to find a public toilet but happened upon St. Mary’s Hospital, where I walked in through the main entrance and into the toilets. I suddenly came to and thought “what am I doing?”, so I packed all my stuff up, ended up walking up the stairs in a daze, looking through the main doors to A&E, realising that it was stupid and came back down the main ramp.
And I stood there for a good 15 minutes, trying to cry. Wanting to cry. Wanting to burst into floods of tears and break down and have someone ask me if I was OK, but I couldn’t. I then realised I was outside the mental health unit, which is run by the same trust (Central & North West London) as the one that runs the CMHT I am a patient of, and I know they have an out of hours service based there. I walked in, went up to reception, started to stutter, couldnt’ make myself understood, apologised and ran all the way up the back road to Paddington station, down the platform and onto the tube.
I stood, waiting for a Bakerloo train to come and stared at the electronic display… and then it dawned on me. I could throw myself under a tube train and foget all this shit in my life. The self-harm, the bipolar/BPD/they can’t decide, the bulimia, the substance dependency, the self-loathing, the constant perfectionism; it could all be over as soon as the electronic display said “Caution. Stand Back. Train Approaching”. I put my bag on the seats and stood close to the platform edge. The train whistled in, and I stayed standing there, cursing myself when it came to a stop. I did the same for the next train, and the next, and the next. I don’t know how long I was there, it seemed ages, and quite a few trains went through, until I was approached by a member of London Underground staff who asked me if I was OK. I said I was, and he asked why I wasn’t getting on a train, to which I mumbled “I didn’t know”. He said it was silly to stand so close to the platform edge because I might end up a “one-under” (LU collaquialism for person under train) and walked me off the platform.
I got a bus home and pretended everything was absolutely fine to the parents. I breezed in, showed my Mum the photos I had taken along South Bank and came up to my room. Then it hit me… I had been so close to suicide, closer than I had for a while. Part of me hated myself for (as I saw it) chickening out and not jumping, and part of me was so scared by my actions and thoughts and the fact that I knew one step off that platform would have been the end and I wouldn’t have even known why I was ending it really. I tried ringing the CMHT, where I got an answerphone saying that no one would be in the office until Wednesday but to contact the South Kensington & Chelsea Mental Health Unit in an emergency, so I hung up. Then I rang the Samaritans and got a lovely, lovely woman, who didn’t patronise me or think I was melodramatic, or making it up. She just listened andasked the right questions, and didn’t mind me howling down the phone at her and sbbing my heart out. She supported me for a good hour whilst I spilled out all of the above and more, but she didn’t butt in or anything. She was supportive in a quiet, meaningful yet sincere way, which was what I needed. After that I was shattered and had that horrible post-crying headache and stuffy nose. I didn’t fancy seeing or speaking to my parents so I took a zolpidem (which my Mum had left on my desk for me) and some Nytol and went to sleep, where I had a very odd dream, but not bad odd, more bizarre in terms of the people who were in it (none of those people would ever be together in the same room).
Today I’m feeling a bit better. The blades etc. are still in their packets, I don’t have the same urges and I’ve stopped crying. I have to pick myself up and be the life and soul of the party later as I’m going out for New Year’s Eve. A group of friends, Rich and some of his friends and I are all going out in Central London, and intend to make the best use of the free public transport!
Happy New Year everyone!
Ruth
