We lie, every one of us. We do it for selfish reasons and at times as a selfless act to protect those who mean the most to us from the truth. The reason why I started with that is so you can understand why I kept the truth to myself. For those who are triggered by the talk of suicide please don’t carry on reading, but I hope one day you will be in a place where you can. June 2021, I attempted to take my own life, I had jumped from a bridge over Headington Hill. I had the intention that if I am successful, I shall not have to suffer anymore. I was struggling for so long and felt so alone just me and my mind wandering down a rabbit hole of hell. I was studying nursing my dream course, in my dream city of Oxford. I had reached all my goals and ticked them off. At the time I thought this is where my happiness was, if I do this, I shall be happy. It was the opposite of what I had created in my mind.
This is a something I wrote a couple of months after;
“Happiness is not a place nor person. Even though the two may aid in your joy they are not the source. It comes from within and your ability to accept. Sadness and anger are very valid feelings, your only emotion is not positivity, allowing yourself to feel the good and the bad is key to a healthy balance”
Most of my time I was in student halls attending my lectures and seminars via zoom. It honestly was not what I expected. I was usually a very busy person I’m like a lost puppy without a purpose even though I was studying I wasn’t active. I’m used to doing 60-70 hours a week plus a social life, and not having that just left me to my thoughts. I had time to think everything I had pushed to the back of my mind came rushing out resurfacing from the past it was scary, I had to deal with it. With the uni experience comes drinking and I would drink 4-5 nights a week getting blackout drunk I just wanted to feel something, I had become desensitized. At my lowest points I would end up hurting myself as I no longer cared, even if it was in the form of pain, it made me feel alive just for a moment, I was able to externalize what I felt, and it was addicting.
I had friends I no longer speak to them anymore which is my fault as I isolated myself, but the one who got me through that time and whom I’m so grateful for lived in the flat above me, she honestly made that experience so much better and I’m grateful I had her then. Even though we barely speak now thank you.
I don’t remember much from the night I jumped, just the flashing lights of the ambulances and being in the CT scan. The hardest part then is that I survived I had to deal with the aftermath, all I wanted to do is protect those I love and everyone around me (friends and family) and so I created a story well two. To those around me, it was, that I had fallen from a wall whilst drunk. Believable silly Libby got bladdered and fell climbing a wall, and that’s what the story was for everyone around me for months and for some still is till this day, well up until I post this. The second story I told the staff at the hospital was different, I had been drinking on the bridge with a friend talking about life looking at the stars watching life go past, my friend left me, and I stayed thinking as I was getting down to go home I slipped and fell. I tried to make it as believable as possible I smiled and laughed with the nurse’s doctors and psychiatrists to portray the version of clumsy me who had too much to drink and slipped. They all believed this story.
I wanted to tell everyone the truth but how can you tell people the truth when you can’t face it yourself. The truth of that night is I went to that bridge, and I jumped. Writing that last sentence is a relief I no longer need to lie. I don’t why I survived, why I am not paralysed from breaking my spine or why I can still walk after shattering my pelvis. But I am so grateful I survived I can still experience life. To the person who found me lying on the road, from the depths of my heart thank you. You have allowed me to see how beautiful life can be.