A year ago today; I wrote a note and swallowed pills. I wanted to die. Thankfully panic took over and I called 999.
I can’t believe it has been a year. I can’t believe I had a proper mental breakdown and not 1 but 2 psychiatric ward admissions. I can’t believe that 1 year on, we’ve left work, moved home, and I’m just about to take on “my dream job” back on Irish soil.
I think off those women and men that somehow brought me back from the brink regularly. The amazing psych nurses, support workers, psychologists and care co-ordinators that dug me out off hell, and gave me hope.
I really should send them a thank you.
1 year on, and I’m hopeful. 1 year on, I’m a little stronger and as I type this, I have zero suicidal intent. 1 year on and myself and OH are stronger, and my love for little man is beyond anything; I’d ever imagined possible. That boy is my greatest achievement, and oh my word, I’m so proud off him.
Let’s hope the next 12 months are kinder to us all.
We deserve happiness.