WARNING, HONEST DISCUSSION OF SUICIDE
Please do not read any further if this will bother you.
Today has been a bad day. My wife’s motorbike broke down again, which is likely to be expensive. My own motorbike has to get through it’s MOT tomorrow, which it may or may not do without repairs, and then it needs taxing, so that is going to be expensive. Then I found out that I actually do owe upwards of £1,750 to the council in overpaid housing benefit. We gave them every single payslip that my wife got so that they knew what our income was, but they still managed to build up a massive backlog of overpayments.
This has triggered another round of bad depression. And it has got very bad. Earlier I just sat there frozen and unmoving, thoughts spiralling round and round about how bad things are. I want everything to stop. I have not only decided how to kill myself, but also how to make sure that it works and doesn’t just end up with me in hospital, or dying slowly and painfully from liver failure. I don’t want to hurt myself to get help, because I’ve already got all the help that I am going to get. If I do it, I want it to work so that I don’t have to deal with this any more.
But I don’t actually want to die. In fact I am terrified that I might go through with it and succeed. I just want everything to stop being shit. When my depression is bad I can’t really tell the difference.
I know that I have many reasons to keep trying. For some reason, my wife loves me. I’ve been sick the whole eleven years that we have been married. She is now my carer as well as working full time to support us both. I am so sick at the moment that I can do hardly anything for myself; she cooks, cleans, does the shopping, and everything else. And she is only stuck in a crappy minimum wage job instead of teaching because she has stayed around to look after me. And yet she loves me, and will be hurt if I die. I don’t understand that. My family, too, seem to like having me around in spite of all that I need them to do for me.
Then there is the work that I do in campaigning for fair treatment for other sick and disabled people. All that I can do is shout, try to get people to notice what is going on. I write on this blog, and I tweet, and I write letters to MPs and MEPs and peers, and I make videos, and pass information to people that need it. It isn’t much, but apparently it has made a difference to some. My actions have helped others and I am grateful to have that chance. If what I have done as resulted in the main path out of Badsey become wheelchair accessible, in peers and MPs becoming aware of legislation that they oppose, of other people getting information that helps them to get the help they need, then I am happy to have achieved something worthwhile.
This evening someone else said something that struck me. “ I’m insignificant, its the people i energise that are important.” I replied with “I beg to differ. You are important in your own right, no matter how many people you help.” Then I paused to think about what I had just said. I just can’t make myself believe that about myself. I think it must be true, but it’s the impact on other people that matters to me.
In the end, only one thing actually snapped me out of this depression for now. And that was the thought of hugging and kissing my wife. And when she got home I hugged her for as long as I was physically able to. I can’t die, because I can’t hurt her. And next time I’m this depressed, please, remind me of that.
Now please excuse me, I have to go and hug my wife.