In the Dark

Imagine you get in your car and decide to drive to Scotland. You take a look at the route, you perhaps set the sat nav and it tells you roughly how long it should take. You know there may be traffic on the way and you'll need to stop more than once. You may even decide to take a detour to visit friends or see something or somewhere you've wanted to visit. But pretty much you know what the journey will be like. You have snacks, drinks, music, audio books. Of course something could go wrong, but you've got your breakdown cover and actually even the journey can become a thing. Having a road trip breakfast before you head off. Getting to Scotland is going to be amazing, it's beautiful, restful, relaxing and you've been wanting to get there for years. Result. 

But what if you can't drive? What if the car isn't actually designed for the journey? What if you can't read a map or don't have sat nav? What if rather than you driving the car you decide to let your five year old child have a go? Or you don't have the energy to even get in the car to start the journey? What then? How long will the journey take? Where will you find yourself? Will you stop at a service station and ever be able to leave? Will you end up in Plymouth instead of Aberdeen? And will anyone notice you've been gone for months?

In therapy last November I decided I wanted to drive to Scotland. I decided where I was just wasn't where I wanted to be. I confessed my truth for the first time and together we tried to get me into the car and wrestle the child from the wheel. For me I believed once I expressed the intention to drive I would be strapped in and take a Ferrari there on my own private motorway. No traffic, no stopping, just getting to the destination I knew had to be better than where I was. But I don't remember how to drive. And the child I strapped in the backseat safely keeps leaping to the front and pushing me out of the way to turn the car around and head down to Brighton. And the journey sucks. I left without food or water and without anything to sustain me I'm convinced I can't make it. Too scared to stop at a services I figure it won't matter if I crash the car and don't make it. 

What's worse is people keep offering to come with me, to help me navigate and I say no. Or don't think they really want to be on the drive. Convinced I should do this on my own. 

Which means I've been sitting stuck on the M25 for weeks now. I'm not even out of the Dartford Tunnel, in fact that feels a pretty good place to stay. Trapped in the dark, far worse than the messy middle. No way out. But it isn't a good place at all and I hate it. 

Writing when trapped is hard, but I know sometimes we only get to hear about the before and after. I never thought I would want to end my life again. But here I found myself last week. And just before having a birthday weekend away with friends. Fun. Not. It's like the world around me just felt too hard and I abandoned the car completely. What was the final trigger? I don't know. Some of it was work. Some of it was anxiety about my birthday. Most of it was just wanting the pain to stop. Wondering 'what if' this time I could actually find a solution to this mess. But dying isn't the same as stopping the pain. And I knew enough to confess to those around me and ensure I can be kept safe. But that doesn't stop the thoughts. And that's the problem. 

I had a four minute conversation with a GP at my surgery, who didn't ask why things had changed. Just said I should increase my medication, call 999 or go to A&E and I could access their therapy if I wanted to. She sent a couple of texts with emergency numbers on. 

But I'm still here and I've used one of the emergency numbers - texting Shout when I again couldn't find my way. I'm so very grateful to those few friends who know and have been here and of course my amazing wife. It's hard not to feel guilty and shame that this isn't the life any of them asked for but here we are. And I'm learning it's okay to call out for help. That doing this alone I won't do it at all, instead of driving a car to Scotland perhaps I should at least take a minibus?!

I talk a lot about trauma and I'm not prepared to go in to detail in this blog. Maybe one day but not now. But the fact is working through your trauma, whatever that looks like, is hard. Almost harder than when it was experienced. Reliving pain that is an agony crying out from the depths and feels like it will never end if you let it out even a little bit. Some days I just want to curl in a ball and never unfurl. If I could wipe my brain then I would. A friend suggested maybe the answer was to put the lid on all of this and nail it shut. She admitted this wasn't necessarily the best advice but I did wonder would that work? Since opening the lid last year I've struggled to cope. Could I nail it shut, even if I wanted to? My therapist asked the simple question - "what did I want to do?"

The truth isn't straightforward to answer - I want it gone, I want to wipe these memories but I know they've bubbled under the surface my whole life and pretending they aren't there hasn't helped so far. If I can manage to 'process' this - to get in the car and drive to Scotland, even if I never get there perhaps I can enjoy the journey, perhaps I can stop and have the odd picnic, look up at the sky and think - I survived, I fought my way here and I'm worth this trip?

Sounds like a fantasy right now - that's the truth. I'm still in the Dartford Tunnel. I'm scared and I'm tired. Sitting alone in my car, except I'm not alone. There are people all around me approaching with torches and I just have to let them in, let them see me, trust that when they tell me I'm loved and loveable they are telling the truth. And in doing that the child in me can get back in her car seat and I can slowly begin to move forward again. 

So, if you're in the dark too right now - just sit a while. You will be found. You can hold on. Trust those around you and when you feel you can't there are others - the Samaritans email service is a lifeline, HAVOCA forums, Shout text line - even bloody instagram has given me a voice that feels safe. 

And to those who know, thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Your kindness and patience is the fuel in my car. 

Resources: 

Help for Adult Victims Of Child Abuse - HAVOCA - Help for Adult Victims Of Child Abuse - HAVOCA

Samaritans | Every life lost to suicide is a tragedy | Here to listen

Shout - UK's 24/7 Crisis Text Service for Mental Health Support | Shout 85258 (giveusashout.org)

Home - Frazzled Cafe

BetterHelp | Professional Therapy With A Licensed Therapist - search carefully, checked they're registered and read all the T&Cs






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