Why Am I Sitting Here Typing This?

A friend wondered earlier why I wasn’t in hospital. At the time of speaking to them last night I had 145 sutures in my legs (less now as I took some out), of which 73 were put in on Friday and had spent the afternoon sitting at the top of Beachy Head about 1cm from the edge. The Coastguard told me I might get blown off and offered to drive me back to my car, an offer I accepted.

I told the Crisis Team all of this last night but they seemed less than interested. I spoke with the duty CPN at the CMHT on Friday after being discharged about things as Allison was away, but they just said they’d record it in my notes.

I’m glad I’m still at home, and yet I know that in July I was find by the side of a road and ended up in a psych unit. I don’t know what is different this time. I don’t even know if anything is different. Last weekend I wrote a suicide note and took a small overdose. This weekend I was close to walking off the top of a cliff. Inbetween I have had more the 100 stitches due to self-harming.

When will this end? More to the point, how will this end?

Ruth