Posts Tagged ‘manchester ship canal’
In the lead up to September 9th, I had become increasingly suicidal as my hope for some help and improvement ebbed away. I started to develop a plan to change things. My manager had arranged a meal out for the team and although I was still on sick leave she had invited me. I knew I would be on my own and that it was likely to be my last opportunity for a while to do anything. I wrote my suicide notes, tucking them in the dash of my car before I left. As the day went on I found myself increasingly nervous about the night I’d planned. The meal was good, but it felt a bit weird, knowing I’d planned for it to be my last supper. Instead of driving home after the meal, I drove to a local bridge, one which crosses high above the Manchester Ship Canal. I parked my car on the other side, left my notes on the dash and began the long walk up across the bridge in the dark, torch in hand. The road was busy, which was off-putting. I was terrified that someone would see me and stop. I was terrified that I would be found and sectioned. I got to the top of the bridge and stood at the side looking at the barrier I needed to climb. I moved closer, but the traffic was still busy and distracting. I just stood there, frozen. I wanted to make myself climb and fall, but my head was disconnected from the rest of me. I couldn’t move. I was still terrified that I would be found. I was terrified someone would slow down and didn’t want to be seen. I kept trying to will my body along, but it didn’t work. I eventually realised I wasn’t going to be able to do it. I don’t know why. I wanted to, but something stopped me. I told myself I could give myself another week, but if I still felt like that in a week I would do it. I walked back down and drove home, annoyed with myself, but relieved too. I was relieved I hadn’t been found.
The following week was difficult. I was determined to keep my promise of another week, but found it hard. I regretted my missed opportunity. At night, I beat myself up over my cowardice and was ashamed by it. I was frustrated with myself and didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t think about anything else but trying again. I hated that I couldn’t speak up and tell anyone. I was too scared and ashamed. I just had to keep the turmoil to myself and hated it.