Here, where the lonely hooting owl
Sends forth his midnight moans,
Fierce wolves shall o’er my carcase growl,
Or buzzards pick my bones.
No fellow-man shall learn my fate,
Or where my ashes lie;
Unless by beasts drawn round their bait,
Or by the ravens’ cry.
Yes! I’ve resolved the deed to do,
And this the place to do it:
This heart I’ll rush a dagger through,
Though I in hell should rue it!
Hell! What is hell to one like me
Who pleasures never knew;
By friends consigned to misery,
By hope deserted too?
To ease me of this power to think,
That through my bosom raves,
I’ll headlong leap from hell’s high brink,
And wallow in its waves.
Though devils yell, and burning chains
May waken long regret;
Their frightful screams, and piercing pains,
Will help me to forget.
Yes! I’m prepared, through endless night,
To take that fiery berth!
Think not with tales of hell to fright
Me, who am damn’d on earth!
Sweet steel! come forth from your sheath,
And glist’ning, speak your powers;
Rip up the organs of my breath,
And draw my blood in showers!
I strike! It quivers in that heart
Which drives me to this end;
I draw and kiss the bloody dart,
My last—my only friend!
I have always been deeply moved by this poem, and today of all days it means an awful lot to me.
Warning: this post will contain triggers!
Last night I tried to end my life. Several things happened through the day that confirmed people’s thoughts of me and my belief that I have nothing to add to the world.
I sought help, calling the mental health crisis team who turned me away, as did the local team I am registered under. There really was no safe place for me.
I played along through the evening as my Husband made dinner and we watched TV. Then once he was asleep I wrote him my final goodbye, raided the prescription drugs, and a carving knife.
I cut and I swallowed, praying for an end to my pain, instead I was faced halfway through my endeavour by guilt at leaving my Husband to find me the following morning. What would that do to him?
So, instead of completing my planned end, I stopped, for his sake. And within an hour was in an ambulance destined for some time under observation in hospital and that’s where I remain.
I’ve just spent time with a psychiatric nurse and in all my years of therapy I’ve never cried like I did in that room.
We have discussed a care plan before I see my psychiatrist next week which includes having my Husband take control of my meds, keeping a distance from and having no contact with people who have caused stress recently, avoiding stressful situations and trying to implement some past CBT practices.
Half of me is devastated I am still breathing. The other half is going to have to work especially hard to ensure I am not back in hospital as soon as I am discharged.
This will be a tug of war of wills!