I have been sitting here all morning, wondering if I should write about it or not.

I am in a period of transition and change in my life, which I am sad to say I am not very good at coping with.

I took study leave on Friday so that I could finish an assignment for my part time studies, but by 12:00 I was so depressed that I packed up my laptop and climbed into bed with the covers over my head, telling myself that tomorrow would be better.  I texted two friends to ask them to please pray for me as I wasn’t doing well and they said they would. Good enough.

Saturday dawned and the first 30 minutes I was fine until the grey turning to black cloud descended once more and I climbed back into bed. One of my friends convinced me to go out with her for lunch to get out of the house, which I did.  What she didn’t mention is that her sister would be there and that they would lecture me for an hour about what I should be doing different with my depression.  After that, I went home, climbed into bed, listened to music and kept telling myself to just ride it out, that it would go over, that tomorrow would be better and then I would be able to do my assignment….

By 16:00 I lost the battle.  It was as though something in my head clicked off kilter. As if a setting went wrong. So I started googling the most painless ways of killing yourself.  Turns out there aren’t many… When I sat with a long scarf in my hands, I realised I needed to talk to someone.  Just talk.  That always makes me feel better.

I didn’t want to bother my therapist as I know he is busy, so I did the next best thing.  I called the crisis line that is run by my work.  I spoke to a nice girl, didn’t give my name, just gave my telephone number and we spoke and hung up.  Then she phoned me back and before I knew it, she tells me that the paramedics and the police are outside my gate and I must let them in.  They had taken my cell number and contacted somebody at security to get my details… I only figured this out when the policeman called me by my name.

So I went out in the dark, in my pajamas to talk to them at the gate, while all the neighbours came out of their houses to gawk while I pretended to be okay so that I wouldn’t be dragged off to some mental hospital in front of the whole neighbourhood.

I was so humiliated.  Especially since one of my neighbours is a policeman and seems to have found out the whole story.  And it looks as though it has spread.

My secret shame was revealed and now everyone in the street knows how fucked-up I really am.

To say I am angry, is an understatement. I am livid.  My trust was betrayed and I was handled like a piece of meat.  I was just a number to them.  And they never thought to phone me back the next day to find out if I was really okay.

The fact that they thought it was okay to pull my personal files angers me.  It is illegal according to South African law.

So I am not sure how to handle this.  I am in any case, in the process of moving, so I am trying to speed it up and move out of my place on Saturday already so I can avoid the stares and the glances.

I know one thing.  I will never trust anyone again when I am in my dark place.  I know now that I am better off alone, wrestling my demons and I would rather go and stand in front of a train than ever trust those “counselors” again.

I have learnt a valuable lesson – right now, I am alone and the only person I can count on is myself.









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