In January 2018 after finally breaking free again from the toxic relationship I knew I should never have returned to, I once again didn't feel safe in my own home. This house was my fresh start following the previous January when I had broken free. I felt so stupid at letting the person who terrorised me into the home that was my fresh start, a house where only happy memories with my children were to be made.
The sense of relief at finally being free and able to care for my children and be independent is indescribable. Everything was going well, I was making my way through the final year and enjoyed working on and completing my dissertation. I was on a high. Housework is done before the school run, dissertation completed and submitted 2 weeks early and on top of everything for my exams.
I began applying for jobs - 40 jobs to be specific, two of which I got an interview for and one which I got the offer of a job which I accepted. I began working during my exams, only taking the days off for each exam.
Then there was the last exam - I expected to feel a sense of relief, but I didn't all I felt was the anxiety of what would happen next? Did I do enough to come out with the marks that I wanted? That I NEEDED, to feel that I was a success. The anti-climax of completing university was devastating. It's what I was good at, it's what I understood and what I felt my purpose was - to learn.
When the results were realised online I had finished work and decided to go for a sunbed and checked the online portal just in case they were up - they were. I had got a First. I had got a First that I worked so hard to get and I have sat alone with no one to celebrate with. I had my sun bed and went home and cried. Feeling isolated, alone and hit with the reality that my degree was finished.
This was the time when my mood spiralled, both up and down in the most extreme ways. I was having intrusive thoughts of harming myself and ending my life - for no apparent reason. The Beast had returned. At this point my mummy knew something was wrong so we used the system we used during my teenage years - I would send her a message saying "sausages" to let her know I was having intrusive and harmful thoughts - because who really ever wants to say out loud "I want to die. Today I feel like I might kill myself". Whoever really can tell the person they love and loves them the most in the world that they would rather be dead?! I love my family more than anything and the shame that is attached to such thoughts is just as unbearable as the thoughts themselves.
There were days I spent my lunch hour sitting in the car crying, wishing I could scream in order to remove this demon that had taken over me. Numerous calls were made to my GP for help, the thoughts in my head screaming louder and louder until it was hard to hear real noise. Some days were fine and some days were unbearable. Imagine searching journal articles looking for research regarding how children cope after a maternal suicide; imagine the feeling of guilt of knowing you could overdose if you so wished but then imagine the feelings of guilt you would have to know your two children would be left without you. So then, you wish for some freak accident to take you or take you all so you don't have to live with the guilt. At the lowest point, I had even imagined setting fire to my house so I would have no guilt or shame of leaving my children behind without me. That's how you rationalise things in a depressive episode. That is the type of reasoning that makes sense but only until the unconditional love for your children kicks in and battles with those thoughts. During my depressive phases it is a constant argument inside my own head and sometimes its so loud I struggle to hear real noise. At that point, even after being prescribed Buspirone for my anxiety and intrusive thoughts and being put on to Venlafaxine and my dose increased - I KNEW I had to do something. So I went to my GP again and I explained I know my depression comes in cycles, and then he asked me about my spending and that took me off guard. Having finally been free to use MY money instead of it being stolen from me I would go through periods where I would spend ridiculous amounts of money on NOTHING and not even care about whether or not I could pay my bills because whenever you are in mania you don't think of consequences, your mind doesn't allow you. I was asked had I ever been assessed for Bipolar Disorder and I said I hadn't - it was this point I was once again referred to the Mental Health Resource Centre.
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