*Trigger warning: This post contains pill-popping, ideating triggeries*
I spent yesterday evening bantering away on Twitter. It was lovely and well worth giving up study time for. I’d had back to back meetings all day, only getting half an hour to myself and the chance to go for a wee once. So I skipped the library and came home to watch Star Trek instead. I watched a fab episode and then chatted with my friends in Twitterland.
Then I saw a passing tweet about an overdose and instantly thought how fantastic it would be to swallow all the pills we have. The image popped into my head and it seemed so easy, so perfect, so fitting and appropriate. Within seconds I was out of breath with tears streaming down my face, eyes wide open in shock at how quickly my mind had turned on me.
For a bizarre twist, only an hour earlier I had been talking to hubby with some smugness about how well I’m managing, that I see no need to tell my boss that I have a mental health condition because it is not a part of my life anymore and that if I can come out of this unscathed then I can come out of anything unscathed. If I can deal with massive amounts of stress, self-doubt and nasty germs with attachment issues than I’m on the home stretch. Recovered. Mental illness firmly in the past tense.
But how about I top myself with all these pills instead?
This morning the thoughts are still all present and correct, going strong and waving delightedly at me. They’ve been on the naughty step for a while, I guess they have to take any chance they can get, bless ’em.
There’s no need to freak out (I keep repeating this to myself). I’m really tired (evidenced by sleeping in this morning and arriving at work late with no make up on), physically battling teh illz, getting my head around a new and demanding job and terrified I’m about to screw my degree up. So what if my brain fantasised against my will about doing itself in? I’ll just be grateful it didn’t turn on me earlier.
Imagine writing a note to prof: I’m sorry I didn’t hand in my dissertation – I died instead.
Today is proving tricky thus far. The train journey was tolerable because I played Angry Birds on my phone. I’m now sitting at my desk trying not to make an inventory of what pills I’ve got stashed away.
You see why I put a trigger warning at the top of this post. I sometimes don’t really like trigger warnings, maybe because I’ve never seen the need for them myself before. But if one tweet can start this off for me then what could a blogpost do to someone else? On the other hand, I do wonder if a trigger warning can actually draw people in and so serve the opposite intention, so I’m still in two minds about their use.
I’d love to tell you that I’m about to implement stage one of the ‘counter the naughty step mentals’ plan, but I don’t actually have one of those plans. I’m going to get through work today, not cry, meet someone to talk about notice boards, keys and access cards this afternoon, spend the evening in the library and finish my dissertation over the weekend. So there is a plan. It’s a ‘let’s see if I can achieve new levels of exhaustion and sleep it off on Monday afternoon’ plan. Sound good?