I've had to create a new lj, mainly because this one is being a total douche. I'm well pissed off about this cos I have friends I love on here...

So please add me.  Please. I'll be friending you all again, that's if you still want me to leave rambling late night comments on posts. I think I'll understand if you refuse, I don't know how much of my rambling I could take!


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So since the beginning of last week I've had Rydon vans sitting outside my house. I like them, they make me smile. Now I just have to see the little purple one again.
Is it bad that I have an urge every time I see one to make the o into an e ? I resist said urge only because when Panic eventually get their cute asses over here to play in March I don't want to be in some prison cell doing time for criminal damage :/
I also feel the need to find things wrong with my house so that they (the Rydon people) have to come fix it!

I've been laid up for a week, nasty flu virus' suck.
Anyway, tonight I get to go out with people I used to work with. All expenses paid! So I go. Well, you would, wouldn't you? Please take into account that the person holding the company credit card is my 'gay boyfriend'. Hell yes. Free food, free drink and gay boy sex talk!
Downer number one was that I had forgotten that other people would be there, therefore me and Ben wouldn't be able to talk as freely as usual. He did however remind me how important the prostrate is in gay sex but then followed that up by reminding me that his ex hadn't been big enough to reach it when having anal sex!!!
Something that never seems to come up in porn fic. I guess we all hope that all our 'boys' have enough length to reach that prostrate heaven spot!
Downer number two has to be coming home to my ex, babysitting our son. That shouldn't be a downer: he had bought a wonderful black christmas tree (the one I wanted) and set it up! But then he had to start.... all of a sudden the world became a nasty place. I cannot remember what we argued about, really, I have no idea.
I never did like Christmas much. For me it has a history of family strife. Guess this year will be no different.
EXCEPT. I refuse to let all the miserable pessimistic bastards around me ruin what could be my last Christmas....

So I had hoped that I could start using this journal as a place to just put stuff about my life. You know, the normal everyday things that make us happy, that piss us off.

Tonight changed things, again.

How can we have come so far just to go back so far?
I feel like I am back to the days of the summer months, where I can't, won't, let myself sleep.
Where worry is all I can do.

I missed the signs, again. Someone give her a fucking Oscar. Or open my eyes wider.
There's blood, there's tears, there's pain, there's destruction. There are no pills, this time. Her throat has closed up. She can't swallow them anymore.
I can clean the wounds, make sure they don't become infected, but what good is that when they are only skin deep and it is what's underneath that needs healing? How do I do that?

I spent an hour bathing her wounds, cleaning them, putting cream on them. I watched the tears fall continuously from her eyes, not from the pain of touching the cuts, she never flinched once, but from deep inside of her. And then I went to the bathroom and washed her blood from my hands. Her blood. Off of my hands. I put her room back together piece by piece.

Whenever things are looking good, moving forward, they come spiraling down. I wonder whether it will ever end. Whether it will kill me before it ends. Tonight feels like it will do just that. So much of my time is spent trying to make things right, but it obviously is not enough.

I thought we had turned a corner. It wasn't a corner, it is a circle. A vicious one at that.
The circle isn't round
It's still a square
It bulges with opportunity
If only she could see it. Please let her see it. Please. Just. Please.

I had this conversation tonight with my oldest friend. It says everything about my life.

Me: I feel like I've thrown all the balls in the air and they've all come crashing down. And I couldn't catch any of them.
Caroline: But how would you have known which one to catch? You would never know which one was the right one.
Me: Is it better to let them all fall then? To not catch any of them?
Caroline: Yes. Maybe. Because if you caught the wrong one then you would feel bad about it. But no-one told you which one to catch. No-one could tell you which one was the right one.
Me: Maybe I should just know instinctively which is the right one?
Caroline: Or maybe the right one will bounce back?
Me: But I might be too busy looking at the others and miss that one.
Caroline: If you caught the wrong one that could be disastrous. Let them settle. Look at them. You'll know which is the right one.
Me: But how will I know? I don't get much right nowadays...
Caroline: Instinct. When the balls are raining down on you, your instincts are clouded. When they settle, your instinct'll kick back in. Believe me, believe in yourself. That ball will shine like the new moon.

That is why I love her. She believes in me when I doubt myself. She sees the new moon when I see a floor full of coloured spheres messing with my head.

So the anger got too much. It all came rushing out. I said things I didn't really mean. Maybe I meant them, but the anger took over and the words come out spiteful, hateful and hurtful. The words were twisted into sentences that were maybe meant to hurt. To reflect the hurt I feel inside.

I want someone to understand. How. I. Actually. Feel. A friend told me last week that I have the symptoms of Post Traumatic Stress. Maybe I do, I don't know. I do know that I am exhausted from trying to be strong, trying to be there, (whether I'm wanted or not), from wondering if I'm getting it right. From trying to love enough for us both. My heart is breaking. The tears are there just behind my eyes constantly. My body aches from trying to hold everything together.

The things I said are not likely to be forgotten. They will haunt me. I have done more damage than I think I can repair. A day later and things have been thrown back at me. Things I don't know whether I will be given the chance to explain properly now. (The saying 'Speak in haste. Repent at leisure' will hang over me like a storm cloud.)

The anger was made up of many things: frustration; helplessness; worry; failure; desperation.
Today things have been said to me that have broken me further. I have had my worst fears confirmed. I had not realised just how much I have failed. I don't know where we go from here. I don't know if there is anywhere left to go. She may be slowly climbing out of her pit of despair, but as we get further along the road, I seem to be meeting her halfway down my own pit. The last year has been the worst of my life and there has to be a breaking point. I hope I'm wrong and that things can be fixed. Because otherwise that breaking point is looming closer and closer. And I really don't know if I can take any more. The tears are no longer behind my eyes.

I wonder what it takes to make a person forget how to be complacent? Who knows? I only know what it took for me.

I never thought things would be normal ever again, but I stupidly hoped that they would.

Did you know that if a person attempts suicide just the once, then the likelihood is that they won't do it again. But if they do it more than once, then the chances are that they will keep doing it throughout their lives, until, I suppose, they either realise life is worth living. Or they succeed. No I didn't know that either until this year.

Her moods have to be watched. Watched closely. The start of a new school year is stressful, everyone knows that. The days spent in bed, staring at the ceiling, drifting in and out of sleep. Normal behaviour? Maybe, sometimes. Who knows? Nothing can be taken as normal behaviour anymore. So you worry. Others around you worry. You worry that you're over-reacting, that you shouldn't be worrying at all: it's just normal behaviour. But you know it isn't. Instinct has kicked in. Then you wonder where that instinct was on Christmas day, where it was back in April. Will pissed off always mean suicidal? Again, who knows?

So you worry, you watch mood changes, you try to say the right thing at the right time, you try to stay silent at the right time. Do you get it right? Who knows? I'm pretty sure I don't. It exhausts you and invades every fibre of your being. It becomes part of your life. And you try to carry on as normal. You try not to be looking at things too closely, you try not to over analyse movements or comments.

And then the anger creeps in. Not a pleasant realisation that that is the emotion you are feeling. You don't want it in your life, because it makes you feel guilty, and there is no room for any more guilt in your life. How can you feel anger towards someone that you love, that is fragile and, sometimes, in despair? But some days, the anger is stronger than the guilt. You don't want it to be, so you push it deep inside, pretending that you aren't feeling it. But every now and then it emerges, in harsh words or in the withdrawal of the safety you provide daily. And when it does, the guilt comes back tenfold, giving you yet another reason to doubt yourself.

How does someone who loves someone, who wants to die, live? Who knows? Maybe the anger helps a little sometimes. We are all selfish beings. I only know that my life has changed, I can't see any good that has come from the change. There are so many things I wish I could just put out there. So many feelings. I can express the hurt and the pain and the worry and the guilt. But it's the anger that I can't bring myself to put into words. That would maybe show a part of me that I prefer to keep hidden for now anyway. A part of me that I don't really like or am proud of. But a part of me that I am now having to face.

Yeah, I'll save the anger for another day. A day when I can rationalise it. A day when I don't just want to run away. A day when I'm not asking myself how the hell we got here. And in the meantime, I'll hope that suppressing it won't damage any of us any more than it already is. Sometimes, I think the damage already done is irreparable. Who knows?

I guess now we just wait and see. See how life plays out, see if the anger comes out. See if we can actually get through this. Because somewhere over the the last few months, this has become not just about her and her lack of will to live, it has become about how we all live.

So she is home.
We got through the weekend leaves.
We got through the trial home leave week.
Things should be back to normal now.

Nothing will ever be normal again.

I will never know if she is hiding her hatred of herself so well that I can't see it. I will worry about the effect of curfews and discipline.
I will have to speak after thinking carefully, there can be no more just speaking my mind without being able to justify my words.

Her life is fuller than it ever has been. New challenges, new adventures, coupled with the good stuff that was always there. Will it ever be enough to make her love herself enough to make her want to carry on living? I can only hope so. I can only keep a close eye on mood swings. I can only ask if it's just normal 'feeling down' and hope she is honest with me.

I try to carry on as normal. What is normal? Normal now is being scared that I could miss the signs that she might attempt to take her life again. That has become my normal every day existence. The reality of a different 'normal' has finally sunk in. I don't like it much, but that is my life now.

The smiles and happy times mean so much more. I cherish them. I remember them all. We laugh and we play. We dance and we fool around. We argue and we are sad sometimes. But for now we are living, both of us. For that, and for this time together, I am so eternally grateful. I love her more than life itself. If only she knew...

(Somehow, my last post (dated 27 April) has only appeared today! Forgive me, I think my head was somewhere else.)

So now we're 20 days on from the suicide attempt. The swallowing of twice as many tablets as it takes to kill a person.

The last 3 weeks has seen me strong (because sometimes you just have to be); breaking down in private (because you can't show your weakness in front of people that need you to be strong); numb (sometimes numbness makes you able to act strong for those others); frightened; helpless; sleepless; confused, and oh, so very angry!

How could someone so loved and wonderful think they are worth so little? How could someone who knows they are so loved be so blind to that love? How could they think that their death would not change the lives of the people who love them so much?

I have come to realise, that the despair felt; the hate towards themselves; their self disgust, was just so overwhelming that all thoughts of what their death would do to their loved ones was inconsequential when compared to their inner pain and suffering.

So what now? She is still alive. It has taken 20 days to see even a glimmer of the person she was. The laughter has returned (albeit only once), we are rewarded with the occasional smile and a small amount of normality. More frequently we have seen a person we didn't know existed. A soul so tortured (and kept so well hidden from every day life), that spouts accusations and pain that tears in to your heart and your very being.

She still resides in her 'safe house'. Lost to us as a member of our household; our family; our lives. A void. We carry on with our daily routine. Where are the arguments over computer time; or homework; or the TV remote; or which music gets put on; or, all those things that somehow just integrate themselves into family life, all those things you take for granted and never once think you'll miss? A huge, massive, gaping void, that cannot be filled when someone is missing.

Problems have come to the surface that we've missed; too blinded by every day life to see. For that, we can never forgive ourselves fully. What happens if we miss those signs (or new ones) again?

Things seem to be getting better right now. Those problems seem to be being acknowledged. We seem to be making a slow but steady progress. Sometimes it is do the proverbial one step forward and then it all goes crashing two (major) steps back.

We all know that we have a long journey ahead of us. For now, it is the same as it was 20 days ago; we have to show her that her life is worthy, that it's worth living, that she is worth living.

Tonight I am happier than I have been for 20 days. But feeling that happiness in itself brings a sense of apprehension. I am now too scared to feel that we are past the worst and that this can be fixed. I am scared that if I let my guard down just a very small, very tiny, oh so minuscule bit, that my world will come crashing down, again.

I have realised that my life will never be the same again; there will always be a part of me (no matter how it diminishes as time goes by - as she learns how to stay alive, hopefully) that will never forget that she wanted to leave this world and us.

So. Yes I am happy. But... I'm so fucking scared to be happy. x

So today she was moved to a safe house: a 'Crisis Recovery Unit' to be precise.
So now i know that, for today at least, she is safe. That is the whole ethos of this unit. Their job is to keep her safe.
I am exhausted. But sleep is even more impossible than when keeping her alive was down to me alone.
I know she is safe, that she will still be alive in the morning. so why cant i sleep? After all, that is what i was trying to achieve wasn't it? To keep her alive, to keep her safe?
I don't know why i cant sleep. i wonder if it's that it means waking up tomorrow ? and then it's another day we have to keep her alive. if i don't sleep then maybe her being alive just goes on.
Maybe i made enough decisions today (yesterday really) and i don't want to face the ones that might be thrown at me tomorrow (later today really).
For the first time in days the responsibility of someones life has been taken away from me. A weight has been lifted from me, a weight that i feel should be mine. Maybe it is guilt that keeps me awake.
Her staying alive is what i want. At this moment in time it isn't what she wants. There is no part of her that wishes her suicide attempt hadn't worked. Part of her wishes it had and the other part 'can't be bothered to think about it'. Not once has she said that she is glad it didn't work or that she is glad to be alive.
Sleep or no sleep, tomorrow will bring another day of trying to keep her alive and, hopefully, her moving towards realising all the things she has to live.
This is going to be a long, long journey. I can only hope that the destination is the one that i long for and that she can meet me at.
I love you SYC. Don't leave us