I’m finally ready to talk about my HECTIC week.
I should have seen it coming really. After struggling to sleep all week, getting up for work at 4.30am (really? Seriously, who does that??!), extreme irritability and anger outbursts, intense exercising and a rather uncalled for and unhealthy dose of rejection (again, another time when I’m brave enough) my energy started to turn rotten.
It was like a switch that flicked inside of me. Vicious anxiety gripping it’s claws in to my heart again, emotions and senses magnified x1000, distorted and unshakeable.
I couldn’t sleep. I was so desperate to switch off. It hurt to breathe. Every drop of blood in my veins pulsed with the urge to saw it all out. Overdose. Get rid of it. GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE, FAST.
I made it through the night with a desperate attempt to reach out for someone, anyone to stop me. A few people did, and I’m so grateful for those few spirits who helped me through the night. The following day might have had a completely different outcome of not for those people.
8am. Strapped Lola in the car in her pyjamas. Took The Boy to work. Then blasted Disney songs out of the window whilst me and my daughter sang along. I needed to get this energy out. It felt good. I screamed louder. Fuck it, I thought. Just fuck it.
Fastt forward a few hours later and I was on my way to the airport. With no passports, no money, and my mum and my daughter in the car.
If it wasn’t for my satnav taking me the wrong way with me ending up in the middle of nowhere in an Asda supermarket having a complete mental freak out, I’d probably would have ended up causing a scene trying to blag my way on to a flight to freekin Timbucktoo. I was totally out of it. All I remember is stopping myself from grabbing all the wine bottles off the shelves and letting them smash all over the floor on to onlooking innocents thinking that maybe try should have done their weekly shop on a Saturday this time.
Lola stopped me. My own daughter, unknowingly to her, stopped me from losing my head. I could not control these urges. I zoned out, dissociated, started to slip out of reality.
Dont black out now Megan.
I got in the car and sped back home, my mother freaking out besides me, abandoned the car on the estate and the next thing I know the ambulance crew were taking me away.
Arseholes all of them. A young girl gets rushed in screaming that she doesn’t want to be here and they all looked at her like they just didn’t have a care in the world- and didn’t know what to do with her we only deal with broken arms and bloody shins at Accident and Emergency, didn’t you know? We have no room here for the girl that genuinely wants to die!
They managed to leave me to calm down for an hour, then called the RAID team out to deal with me. I remember being sat in the waiting room with nobody looking over me eyeing up a shiny sharp object on the floor. I could have gone and locked myself in the restroom and sawed my way in to my wrists until there was no more blood left to gush out, and taken a fun last bet on how long it would have taken someone to find me.
Holding on tight is hard, why was no one helping me? I finally got seen to as things got better.
“I don’t think you’re meds are right for you…”
No shit, Sherlock.
And then I was on my way after a psychiatrist referral, a med review and an offer to stay the night.
Fuck you. Fuck you all.
The Boy took the next day off work and I took a sedative and finally got some well needed rest…
part two later.