Difficulty

**TRIGGER WARNING. I am going to be writing about anxiety, self harm, depression and suicide. This possibly could be triggering. YOU DON'T HAVE TO READ THIS. It's very sad and not very interesting. I just find writing things out therapeutic and helpful instead of having things going round and round in my head. **

I don't know where to start! Okay the last counselling session I had which will be nearly three weeks ago now, I talked about having suicidal thoughts. This wasn't new. I had mentioned this a couple of session before however they seemed to be getting worse and I think she could sense that. She said we should probably do something because the counselling sessions didn't seem to be enough. After some deliberation we agreed that she would tell the child protection officer a school who would talk to me and then my parents and I would see the doctor about getting medication. Part of me was okay with it because I felt like I needed it. The thoughts were getting scary and difficult to deal with. A larger part of me was absolutely terrified! The talk with the child protection officer was very uncomfortable but I knew it wouldn't be the worst thing to come from this. My parents were called. I had a short conversation with my mum. A summary of it: if the counsellor says I should go to the doctor to get medication, I should probably go. No mention of self harm or suicide. An appointment was booked- they had one free that evening.

The doctors appointment was horrible. I didn't feel like he acted sensitively or sympathetically at all. He was just firing questions at me about things that took me weeks to be able to tell my counsellor. I couldn't tell him the whole story. I just couldn't especially not in front of my mum. He mentioned self harm but I lied. I couldn't physically make myself do any different. He said he couldn't prescribe me any medication and I was going to be referred to a child and teenager mental health place to be assessed. I felt kind of cheated. He just asked me lots of personal, difficult questioned but he can't do anything anyway. I went home feeling angry and frustrated at him, at me, at the whole situation. I ended up tearing up magazines for the rest of the evening. When my dad came home, he had a chat with my mum then came to my room and said "I better not ask how your day was should I?" You can guess how I responded.

That was that for a while. Very little change just waiting, apart from a little chat from my dad about how important I am to them. Over a week afterwards I was doing really badly.I was cutting a lot and thoughts of overdosing were running riot in my head. I took some pills from the medicine cupboard in the kitchen and hid them in my room even though I was still frightened of what I was think of doing. I only took half the pills from the packet (8 pills) because I thought taking the whole packet would look to suspicious. That night I lost it. I took 8 paracetamol pills over an hour in the middle of the night. I couldn't cope anymore. I wanted to hurt myself really badly. I knew it wasn't enough pills to kill me but I thought it was enough to hurt me. I managed to get a couple of hours sleep that night. I woke up, remembered what had happened and freaked out. They hadn't effected me but I was scared. I didn't know what was going to happen. With cutting I know. Everyone has had a cut in their life so you know what to expect but this...I had no clue. I had a panic attack my mum came in to see me. It took me a while to be able to convey anything that made sense to her but I handed her the empty packaging and nodded when she asked if I had taken them all. She noticed cuts on my wrist too. I didn't know what to do. She was going to work and I didn't want her to leave me.

She called a medical helpline. After answering all their questions we concluded I was okay. The limit was 8 in 24 hours and they didn't seem to have had any physical effect on me. If I got sick I would have to go to A&E. They told me to go back to the doctor. I wasn't too happy about that. They just seemed to interrogate me with no results. My mum had realised I found it difficult to talk about these things with her so agreed to let me talk to the doctor privately. I was given a list of helplines and websites and told that they would call the mental health centre to try and move me up the waiting list. The doctor said I should have a blood test to check my liver was okay but my reaction to that was so bad she just checked my blood pressure instead. She did give me the warning that if I got ill later on in the day, I would have to go to A&E and they would do the tests.

I was angry the pills didn't hurt and found the whole situation very difficult to deal with. I know I had really upset mum I could tell. The doctors appointment was followed by lots of challenging talks with my parents that were probably for the better. I managed to get an emergency appoint at the mental health centre. I was diagnosed with anxiety disorder and depressive disorder, put on the waiting list for cognitive behaviour therapy and given medication. I have to go back soon to see how the medication is working out. My mum came with me and she was told ways to try and help me and establish how I am feeling. We were told to lock away all the medication and sharp objects (the sharp object thing is difficult though and didn't fully happen, how am I supposed to make dinner without a knife?) They said if I get really bad I have to be taken to A&E and we talked about the option of going into hospital if needed.

It was a lot to take in and deal with. It was very overwhelming. I think overall it's good because I'm getting help which I seem to need. I'm still dealing with the fact I'm on medication. It hasn't kicked in yet so the unnecessary anxiety, the suicidal urges and all the other horrible stuff still remains and not only that but it feels like it continues to grow. Every day is a real struggle. Some how I'm still here. It just feels like it could be any day approaching that I'll just step in front of car and it will finally all be over. It's my 16th birthday on Saturday. I'm not looking forward to it and I don't want to make it. It's just one of my increasing list of things I just don't want to deal with. I feel guilty for hurt my friends and family. I really try to keep it together for them, it just doesn't seem to work.

I hope you're doing better than I am. If you are struggling, do reach out. It may not make things better today or tomorrow but in the long run it is the best thing to do.

Lots of Love

Becca x