Last week was a difficult one: Lizzie was so low, so suicidal, that she was refused weekend home leave because her risk levels were deemed too high. This is a major blow to all of us not just because we desperately miss our girl being at home but because having such restrictions in place it is like having the reality of her illness forced down our throats and right into our heart.
It forces us to explain to the other children that she is still so very poorly; however much we dress it up as a “little dip”, the hope of recovery is pushed just one step away for them. They are scared: for Lizzie, for us as parents, for themselves. Our youngest has become ridiculously concerned that she too will get ill like Lizzie and she worries about it constantly.
At the heart of it all is our own deep rooted fear for our little girl. Her doctors tell us that it is good that she had such a significant melt down in hospital: that finally they get to see the true depth of her emotions, like we do at home. Does this mean we are any closer to recovery? I doubt it, but then right now, I’m exhausted.
So, this week she has been quieter, calmer, more philosophical again. Yesterday, my beautiful 14 year old sent me a piece of text. I cried. The poignancy of it hit me hard. I asked her who had written it: it’s raw, it’s beautiful, it’s heart wrenching. She wrote it.
Do you ever wake up, and for those first few seconds when you slowly open your eyes, you don’t remember anything: the pain, the heartbreak, the loss, the anxiety, the need to kill yourself? Because for me, those are the best few seconds of my day. The world is such a derogatory yet beautiful world: derogatory because there is, for me, no purpose to it; so beautiful because in my mind there’s the romantic, fantasised suicidal ideation. My mind is such a controversial place: I want to stay alive, to be important, to change this point of view, yet I want to die because I’m so weak at heart. I have been manipulated by so many people it has taken all the strength from my heart, not my mind just my heart, so the pain is overwhelming, so raw, so fresh, so deep.
Stay strong x
My Suicidal Daughter 