Preventing My Own...

It has been nearly one year since my last blog post. Not that I haven’t had things that could have been said, more that I haven’t had the impulse to actually say them in blog form. It has been a long rollercoaster ride of a year. Amazing highs, terrifying lows. Maybe if the mood takes me I will take the time to get it out. It will probably do me good.

But not today.

Today I felt compelled to post, in homage to the reason for writing my very first post. Suicide. My uncle’s suicide. My first two posts can be seen here. Forever In Our Hearts and The Permanent Solution where I talk about it in case you haven't read them before. 

For today is World Suicide Prevention Day. But two years on, has anything changed in me?

But how do you prevent something like this, when the pressures, pains, anxieties and depressions that we feel as humans is a prevalent today as it has ever been?

I don’t know if you can. But we live in an age where we are encouraged to be open and talk to eachother about our feelings and insecurities. We are told it is ok to not be ok. We are told that asking for help doesn’t make you less of a man.

Therefore my way of preventing suicide, has to be preventing my own.

Now before I go on, I am not suicidal. I am not a risk. I am in a good place. But I am aware to the triggers which can bring me down.

Depression has been something that has been part of my life since my teenage years. Not that I have ever admitted that to anyone until a couple of months back. What started off as insecurities and negative self-perception, soon led to hating my thoughts, and hating them in the true sense of the word.

As I have grown older I have struggled under the weight of life’s every day pressures, anxiety and money troubles have made me to see myself as a failure. A run of issues in my life brought me down, and my mind took me deeper down. And people noticed and asked questions. Scary thoughts had entered my mind. What would happen if this bus hits me at speed? Or if I trip in front of this tube train would it be painful? Would people in my life be better off without me? And it was once I thought that, I knew that in the words of the late 
Chester Bennington, “my thoughts can be a bad place to be”, and that I needed to do something about it. So I spoke to people. One I knew I would talk to, the other who I wouldn’t have expected to open up with. But as soon as I felt compassion, I knew I could release the dark mental build up.

My uncle Charlie died by suicide at 41years old. He took his own life, found in his car in 1993. I was ten years old when it happened, and for years accepted the line I had been told that he had died by a heart attack.

I was ten, and I can see why I was told that. Suicide is hard enough to comprehend as a 35year adult, so there was no way a ten year old me could have been expected to understand the truth and what suicide is.

The questions. The fucking questions. Why? Why? Why? What could we have done? What did you need? Why didn’t you reach out? Why didn’t you talk to us? Why are we left here without you and why didn’t you think about us when you made that decision?

Maybe you felt you would be burdening us with your issues. Perhaps you felt like you had got yourself into this mess and only you could get yourself out. It could be that you did reach out to someone. Maybe it was someone who broke your heart, and they didn’t give you what you needed. Perhaps you couldn’t talk about it. Possibly you were like me and struggle to take advice from others. Maybe you did think about us, despite our absence from your suicide letter.

I can only assume your depression was such a dark horrible fight that you couldn’t fight anymore. In a way, I hope it was a long struggle. As horrible as that sounds, I crave the knowledge to know it wasn’t just an off the cuff decision one stupid drunken night feeling sorry for yourself.

I want you to know that your decision comes into my mind far too often than I would like to admit. It comes into my mind every time a black cloud comes into my life.

I know first-hand how much death by suicide can fuck someone else up. Therefore I know I couldn’t ever put my loved ones through it. I have two little boys who need me, and I made them both a promise of love when they were born, that I would be here for them in every regard. They are my reason for being here. I will move the world to give them everything they need.

Last year, I went to a group for those bereaved by suicide. I learned that your circumstance was definitely an exception to the rule. You wrote a letter. There wasn’t any one in the group who had a letter. Apparently writing a letter usually makes people cease their attempt. Also, alcohol isn’t really a factor in most suicides. The drink must have made you braver that fateful evening.

I didn’t know the type of man you were. I didn’t know what you were passionate about. I didn’t know what you did for work. I didn’t know why you weren’t married or why you didn’t have kids like your three brothers did.

I knew you as the playful loving uncle, with Benny and Deano, two dogs that I loved. I knew the uncle who took me to the woods and encouraged my passion for nature and wildlife. The uncle who bought me a blue Fila watch which I thought was the business. The inappropriate uncle who bought me ‘Robocop’ on video tape for my 8^th or 9^th birthday. It was a brutal 18 rated film. You bought my sister ‘All Dogs Go to Heaven’. The uncle who took us to Chessington a few times. The uncle who I remember once looked after me one weekend, and when you asked if I wanted a burger for lunch, you literally served me a burger patty, with a splodge of ketchup to the side. I was expecting a bun, and I told my mum about it in shock. You were the uncle who took us horse-riding, creating memories that would last a lifetime.

Therefore, your suicide was enough to prevent mine. As I would not want those around me to feel what we felt when you died.

84 men a week in the UK take their lives every week in Britain. 12 per day. That’s nuts. That’s 84 families affected. 84 versions of the ten year old me, who lost their playmate, and who for 25years will think about that person every day. The recent display on top of the ITV buildings by CALM was a huge eye opener. A haunting image.

If you are feeling down, scared of yourself, scared of your thoughts or fucking down in the dumps. Talk. Talk to anyone. You haven’t got to know them, you just need to get it out. Cry. If you need to, fucking cry. Fucking scream if you have to. Don’t let things build to the point where there is only way out, bottle of whisky in hand, writing your final letter.

If you notice in someone that something doesn't seem right, ask them. Talk to them. Show them you care. It might just save their life. 

World Suicide Prevention Day is a global event held every year on September 10th. 

With CALM I am calling on everyone to #StandAgainstSuicide by signing this petition demanding government action ➡️ http://bit.ly/SuicidePetition2018

Help is out there if you are in a bad place. Please use it.

CALM, www.thecalmzone.net, 0800 585 858

Heads Together, www.headstogether.org.uk

Mind, www.mind.org.uk, 0300 123 3393

Samaritans, www.samaritans.org, 116 123