"The low that follows the high?" | Self-Harm

Today is day 3 of my new self-harm recovery streak following a relapse on Saturday morning.

Even now, I don't entirely know what to say. I went into a bit of a meltdown on Friday night, an ambulance was called but didn't arrive, my memory of it is all a bit patchy. I just remember opening my eyes to find that I had a man I didn't recognise talking to me, and I was lying on the ground in the street. Probably unsurprisingly, I was a bit hysterical.

Looking back, I think the scariest thing about what happened is that it shows how unwell I am right now. I've never been in such a poor state. Thankfully I was surrounded by all the right people at the time.

Anyway, moving on to Saturday morning, things didn't get any better. In the early hours, while the friend who stayed with me that night was asleep, I quietly turned the room upside down in search of a sharp object. When I found one, I locked myself in the bathroom and relapsed. For only a few minutes, I was distracted. I was aware of my breathing. I calmed down.

However, it was almost immediately after I put the object down that the reality of what I'd just done set in. 2 years and 10 months of recovery had come to an end. I sat and cried. I looked at the tattoos I'd had done in celebration of 1 and 2 years of recovery. I considered the option of hiding what I'd done, not telling anybody. Eventually, though, I concluded that I had to be honest with myself, and that meant being honest with everyone around me.

When I finally found myself alone, my mind wandered. I had my hand on the handle of my hotel room door, and was planning to go around various chemists. I had no intention of going home. At that moment, I got a text from someone who had supported me the previous night, offering to go to the airport with me that afternoon. Within seconds, I was on my knees, sobbing.

I agreed. And so, later that day, I was on a flight back to Belfast.

If I'm completely honest, I'd forgotten how bad the low was. Invariably, I end up stuck in a bubble of regret, pain, grief, self-loathing. That's one thing that never changes.

The next few months are going to be difficult. I think the best way to get through them, and in turn create a solid foundation for my new recovery streak, will be to remind myself of those seconds in which I was moments away from obtaining pills for an overdose. This was less than 48 hours after telling someone that I couldn't possibly end things this year because I was far too busy.