hospital stay – the rest of it

I arrived in a real panic and my eyes became horribly bloodshot whilst I was there. I may have thought that that had something to do with me becoming demon possessed, but I think with the mental state I was under, it wasn’t a real surprise that I looked so awful. I could not sleep much during the first few days, but the medication I was given kind of sorted that.

There was one morning where I was in torment and scared, for reasons that have already been explained. People tried to get me up for breakfast but I was in an awful state, and eventually one of the psychiatrists came to see me to see if he could help, but he thought it was better if he left me, because I was in such a state.

I didn’t really make any friends with any of the patients, although there was one guy, older than me, who I occasionally watched TV with, who was a nice chap. I guess deep down it was a bit of an embarrassment to be in the same place as people with psychiatric problems.

I remember one night where I felt sick and was at the stage where it was like – God has left me and the Christian faith which I had, really, depended upon for a while, was gone. I was abandoned. By myself.

Anyway, after a month, I was discharged. Even though I certainly was not feeling better, I think the hospital had decided that there was nothing more they could do. So I left St Ann’s in late February, 2006. My parents picked me up. So where to go from here? More to follow.

the hospital staff and patients, and my routine whilst there

Even though my mind was a lot concentrated on my own problems whilst I was there, it was an eye opener to see the patients there. For obvious reasons I will not give out any names, but it left me in no doubt that mental health issues are very much underestimated. Okay, it is probably true that some if not many of the more extreme mental health cases are caused by drugs, but even so. Some of the patients definitely had a major imbalance in their thinking. There was a youngish lad who kept making laughing noises, and an older guy who kept relieving himself without going to the toilet to do it. Other people kept walking up and down the corridor. I don’t think I could ever work in a mental hospital, you definitely have to be a particular type of person to do that. But the staff were really good and were really supportive of me during my time there, even though there wasn’t a huge amount they could do to improve my situation at the time. There was one afternoon when my parents visited when I flipped and staff had to calm me down. They let me stay in one of the rooms on my own quite often, or when friends came to visit.

The time I really hated was when I had to go for a ‘meeting’ with some of the staff who would ask me questions and whether I was feeling suicidal. My situation was different to your average story and there was no way any of the nurses or doctors would be able to relate to my situation. I felt that they were being a bit intrusive, although looking at it now, they were probably only trying to help.

As to what I got up to during the day, well, after they prescribed me some medication which made me sleep a bit better, I did manage to get a bit of sleep during the evenings. In the morning, it was breakfast time, usually I made it down for breakfast, although I think I had to take some medication first. The food served there wasn’t that great, but then, you would hardly expect hospital food to be haute cuisine. I would then have a bath sometimes although my attention to personal hygiene wasn’t as much as it normally is. And it wasn’t always that pleasant going in the bath, probably because I felt like scum and because of the constant thoughts of hell that were tormenting me.

I had my (new) phone on me most of the time, which probably proved to be a real lifeline. It had some games on it which I played a lot. One of my friends brought me some books which I read, which related to spiritual warfare and that kind of stuff. One of them was Victory over the Darkness which is written by a fairly well known Christian author. Some of the quotes within these books brought me a small crumb of comfort, I think, but I could just not quite reconcile the information I was reading, with my situation. I was too far gone, for God to be able to rescue me. That’s what it seemed.

I didn’t listen to a huge amount of music whilst there, I just wasn’t in the mood for it, although most of the CDs I owned had been brought over to me, as well as some that friends lent to me. There was a main lounge area with a TV where a lot of the patients would hang out. I sometimes sat down there, read a paper, watched Countdown .. but it felt a bit weird being in there.

There was something to eat lunchtime and evening, most times I ate, although there was at least one occasion where I just couldn’t eat because I was too depressed.

I did interact with staff a little bit, and they did speak to me, occasionally I went out for a walk with a member of staff. The hospital is situated above one of the best beaches in England, so I went for one or two walks on the beach, also I was allowed to go for a walk when friends came to see me, although I was not allowed to leave the hospital by myself, for obvious reasons. I didn’t really go out very much though, although it was winter at the time so at least I wasn’t missing good weather.

Medication was taken twice a day if I remember, once in the morning and once in the evening. Occasionally I was already in bed when the health care assistant called me for my medication. Even though I knew that the medication wasn’t going to help me get better, it probably did stabilise me somewhat.

The staff nurses wrote a lot of notes and did talk to the patients a fair bit. Some of the patients had disagreements with staff, but I guess that is to be expected. I don’t think mental health should be underestimated, and it is a major issue today, even though most people may not end up in a mental hospital, I don’t think we should dismiss people with such issues, whatever the reason.

family and friends

I will always be grateful for the support I had from family and friends when I was in hospital. I certainly had more visitors than anyone else whilst I was there, and it probably helped me a lot more than I realised at the time.

Of course, my family knew what was going on, but apart from some people at church, no one had any idea because I hadn’t really been in contact with people much during the last month.

My family came to visit whenever they could, which was the majority of days, certainly I think my Mum came almost every day, and sometimes bought some gifts from either them or other people. In a way I guess I blamed my parents because of all the religious bullshit that had messed me up and made me believe that I was under a curse because my parents (who are liberal Christians) had pretty much rejected the fundamentalist Christian claptrap that I followed for so long. I tried to make them understand how I was feeling, that I felt I was going to burn in hell, that there were traps which I couldn’t get out of. Whatever they tried to say to me didn’t really register at the time. Some voices or some spiritual insight had convinced me that my life and all hope was over. Of course, I was holding on to a glimmer of hope, but it wasn’t very big. I saw my brother and great aunt sometimes, all they could do was support me. I did accuse my Dad of underestimating the pain I was in at one stage, which he got quite upset about. I’m not sure if anyone realised how great my pain was, but I think everyone did their best, including the hospital staff.

I received a text from a friend saying that there was some social do on at his parents house. I hadn’t spoken to him for probably 3 weeks or so. I explained to him that I was in hospital and felt condemned and couldn’t see a way out. Jon is still a very strong Christian and said that there was a way out and that he wanted to help me, and texted me several bible scriptures, which I guess was a small help at the time, and also it was probably good to know that someone in my Christian circle of friends outside of church now knew about my situation. Word did begin to spread round of what was going on. I didn’t really consider my friends much and what part they had to play in my life, I was so (understandably) preoccupied with the panic and terror I was under.

But my stay in hospital definitely proved that I had some really good friends, some people give Christians a bad name but my friends definitely did the opposite. Jon was my first visitor sometime during the second week I was in hospital, I had requested for him to bring some books relating to spiritual warfare which he did so. I then opened up my soul a bit to him and said some of the things that were going on in my life, not just the fear of hell thing but other struggles and things aswell, which made me feel ’sinful’.

Jon was very positive and did not believe I had gone too far for God to reach me. I can’t remember what he said but he wanted to pray for me, which was fair enough. Around that time, two other visitors had arrived – JP and Isaac from church, and it was really good to see them. They were both fairly upbeat, and wanted to see how I was doing. They also joined in praying for me. It was quite strong spiritual warfare like praying, and maybe other people heard it, but if the hospital staff ever heard it, they didn’t mind. It did show that people genuinely did care. After everyone had stopped praying, I chatted to JP for a little bit after the other two had gone.

One of the next friends to visit was Andy, who is a very down to earth and caring person. He had left me an answerphone message saying that it would be good to see me. He wasn’t working full time at the time so he had a bit of spare time, he came to see me Friday morning and he tried to encourage me and told me that I know the truth.

These were the first lot of friends I had filter through. There were a number of others, who all deserve a mention. So here we go:-

Kev and Dave – I mentioned about Kev earlier in my story. Him and his then housemate Dave lived just over the road from me at the time, and although I hadn’t known them for long, they proved to be very helpful whilst I was at hospital. Again they were trying to encourage me and I remember Dave saying ‘you cannot lose your salvation’ and also relaying his own personal story about how he had drifted away from Christianity and God for 3 years.

Alex and Louise – Very good friends of mine, Louise had texted me one night saying they hadn’t heard from me in ages, I explained what was going on and they came and saw me on a Saturday afternoon. JP had been and visited me earlier in the day and been quite helpful and when I saw Alex and Louise I kind of was saying that God would help me or something like that. I wasn’t feeling good or anything, just thought that there might be a very vague spark at the end of the tunnel.

Helen, Russ and Mandy – They were housemates at the time and they all visited me at some point. I was quite emotional when Helen and Russ came and Helen did comfort me a bit. I think they were all praying for me, trying to support me and hoping for the best.

Howard – He visited on an afternoon when he had some spare time, I think he was in between finishing his previous job and starting his new one. I can’t remember much of what we talked about, but like all my other friends he was pleased to see me.

Rod Taylor – Jon’s Dad, came unexpectedly one afternoon, it was really good to see him. He works as a home evangelist and also visits people I think from time to time who need support. He has a very strong Christian faith and I guess it was easier to be a bit more open with him – I told him about my battle and that I felt like I was siding with Satan. He read me some verses from the bible and pretty much said that I hadn’t gone too far.

Andrew – Jewish Messianic believer who came one evening with Jon and Rod and lent me a copy of a Gideon’s Bible. He was fairly into deliverance and that sort of stuff. He suggested that I might speak to someone (might have been his Dad) and receive specialist help.

Andy – An older guy from church who I am still friends with, he first came later one Sunday evening. He wasn’t aware I was in hospital until the Sunday. He is a very genuine and honest person, and he along with JP was more help than anyone else from the church. Unfortunately the church leaders didn’t deal with my situation well, which probably meant that other people who might have wanted to see me, didn’t.

Emmanuel, my then housemate, did come two or three times. I think he was still quite worried about me. He is a psychiatric nurse and he knew one or two of the nurses in St Anns. I told him I thought I might be going to hell and he was quick to try and point out that I wouldn’t.

Also John, a guy I worked with who had recently become a Christian. Unfortunately I haven’t really been in touch with him over the last year. He was very supportive and was there for me when I needed him.

So my friends were a great support. It did come as a bit of a relief when someone came along, I was in such a state and other people’s presence was a source of comfort. When no-one came along during the day, that was difficult. People mainly talked and listened to me, Andy played Scrabble and other games, Jon prayed for me and spoke/ministered from the Scriptures. There was one night when he came that I actually prayed to God, which I was quite surprised about.

All my friends were praying for me and I received a number of text messages, which was great. I will always be grateful to my friends during my time of crisis, who knows where I would have been without them, I wouldn’t really like to think.

hospital stay part 2

In some cases I can’t remember exactly at what point things happened, but I just want to go through a few of the thoughts and things that went on in my then fecked up head whilst in the mental hospital, this part of the story was probably during the first week of my stay at hospital.
I would say the primary emotion I felt was being absolutely s*it scared, and that might be an understatement. The feeling of being ‘cut off’ from God, cut off from his forgiveness, and having committed what I termed the ‘unpardonable sin’ of turning away from God, just as Judas did – so maybe I felt like a traitor. I had read some of the stuff in the bible about what happens to such people, and it’s pretty frightening I can tell you – things such as ‘It is a terrible thing to fall into the hands of the living God’ ‘It would be better for that person to have a millstone tied around his neck’ ‘How much more deserving of punishment do you think a man would be who has trampled the Son of God underfoot, treated as an unholy thing the blood that sanctified him, and insulted the Spirit of grace’. I had believed in the literal hellfire that some fundamentalist Christians believe in, that God would punish such people who do not accept the sacrifice of Jesus and accept him as their Saviour. Apparently we were all sinners in God’s eyes and deserved hell. So some Christians think it’s justice for God to send people to hell. Utter garbage (putting it nicely). I did get hold of a bible during my stay in hospital and often when I opened it, verses seemed to ‘pop up’ which served to confirm my fate – that God had cut me off from his mercy and that I had hardened my heart against him. I even read verses and thought that some voice was trying to say that I was a murderer and I would murder someone.

The situation was really serious, just mega, mega horrendous, to feel that you have sinned against God to the degree that I thought was crushing, absolutely crushing, and to feel you have rejected the gospel after you knew all about it and followed it, it just made me feel like scum. To think that you are going to be punished in such a severe way, it’s frightening. I once put my hand on a radiator which was hot and remember thinking this is what my whole body will feel if I get condemned to hell.

It just felt like the devil had got a hold of my soul, and that I had sided with him. I even had thoughts about satanism and wondered if I would turn to that. I felt like an evil, evil person. That I had sided with Satan. Since I had done that then whatever life I had left here was going to be evil, so I thought. I even had thoughts of murdering people, I had thoughts of murdering my roommate, even though I thought he was okay (although he was obviously messed up, he was schizophrenic). I even had murderous thoughts towards a really sweet care assistant, maybe it was because evil had possessed me in some way. My parents had brought me a bag, which, unbeknown to them or me, had a fairly sharp knife which I had used for food, never in any bad way, it had somehow got left there. Now for obvious reasons patients are not allowed knives in the hospital. But thoughts were drawing me to use the knife on myself or my roommate, thankfully they didn’t go too far, but I remember looking out of the room window when by myself in the room and feeling desperate, and I may have held the knife somewhere near my throat, not sure. Anyway on another visit my parents made, I gave the knife back to them.

But being in such a hopeless situation and not seeing any way out and feeling the presence of strong evil, anything could have ended up happening.  If I had been more of a ‘hard man’ in life, then who knows what could have happened. Thankfully I had a lot of friends that found out about what was happening, and they were extremely good and supportive, they probably helped a lot more than I originally thought.

hospital stay part 1

The events that I write about here might not be in exact time order, but they did happen at some point.

okay well I arrived at St Anns Hospital in a state of distress on the Thursday evening. The first thing I can remember is that I was taken into a room for some tests, I think possibly blood tests, whilst my mind was totally in a state of fuck. I think they tried to establish exactly what was going on, but really they had no idea. I think they maybe wanted to just try and settle me down a bit.

I went into one of the ‘lounge’ areas on the ward which had a TV, I remember at least two of the people in there, and they obviously had mental health problems, one was asking whether I believed in Jesus Christ, he could well have been someone who had gotten into a dangerous Christian cult. Another guy told him to piss off when he asked him the same question.

The staff didn’t have a proper room for me to sleep the night, so they arranged for me to sleep in that lounge and gave me some sleeping equipment. It must have been about 10.30 when everyone else had disappeared. I turned the TV on and watched a bit of football highlights. And went to sleep. I think it could have been that night where I was looking at the direction outside of the window and feeling suicidal and thinking about jumping out.

I kind of woke up about 5.30 in the morning and heard someone saying ‘Welcome to hell’ outside, so that was obviously (lol) confirmation that I was indeed going to hell and that Satan had taken over my soul. I felt ‘demonically oppressed’ as I would have termed it at the time, there was certainly something evil going on and I felt like I wanted to be with Satan in hell rather than God. I couldn’t take this. I tied some bed linen round my neck and pulled on it, a semi half hearted attempt to kill myself, let go before I started really suffocating. I was still in torment.

I went into the bathroom and had either a wash or a bath, and thought that after failing to kill myself that I’ll maybe give this God thing another try. Came out of the bathroom and was still a mess. I spoke to the staff nurse who was on duty at the time and told him that I’d attempted suicide (although now I don’t really know if that was true). He wasn’t happy and brought me to his office – people there thought I looked awful. I think I had some tests to check that I wasn’t in danger, which I guess I wasn’t. He then gave me a form to fill out which had questions such as ‘Why I Am Not Going to Kill Myself’. I filled them out and he seemed fairly happy with my answers. I had a brief chat with one of the support workers and I said to her about Christianity and she was a Christian, she seemed fairly supportive of my situation.

I was then moved across to the Branksome Ward, where I think I was originally intended to be. The hospital staff were obviously concerned about me and I think that morning an arrangement was made for me to see a psychiatrist. I’m not a huge fan of psychiatrists – he asked me questions and one I remember was relating to whether I was suicidal. I gave him some answers but I couldn’t really get a lot out because I was in such torment. I felt that they were prying a bit and they were trying to get their heads into their situation that was well above their thinking. After all, I was being oppressed by Satan, how could anyone understand this unless they’d been through it? I know I might sound arrogant in saying this but there’s no way a psychiatrist would have had a clue on how to solve my problems – I thought it was a battle between God and Satan, good and evil, a spiritual battle, now I feel different but suffice to say it wasn’t just a mind disease.

That evening, I was placed in a room on my own. I had all sorts going on in my head needless to say, I was facing a major spiritual battle and several evil thoughts were going on, leading me in a big circle. I felt in the morning that I had some sort of ‘Lucifer spirit’ which kind of means that you think and maybe do similar things to Lucifer. Bizarre. Anyway, I’ll carry on with the next part of my stay in hospital afterwards.

story episode 2

okays, right so I arrived at work on Wednesday morning but I wasn’t there at all. I don’t remember a huge amount but the mind games got the better of me and I was having thoughts of being cursed and cursing other people, which were totally contrary to the Christian beliefs. I was having visions of jumping off a bridge and being condemned to hell. I asked my boss if I could go for a walk and she said yes, only I had no intention of coming back and didn’t. My car was parked at my great aunt’s house down the road – I was thinking of telling her that I was finished and that I was going to kill myself. Fortunately I didn’t, I was and still am quite close to her and she would have been far too upset.

I drove back home. The Indian couple I was living with at the time were both at home. I told Emmanuel that I was going to commit suicide and not surprisingly he was unhappy about it, he said that it would affect the whole church, and said that he’d seen how much I read the bible and set a good example. They had a meal going and I was persuaded to eat it. So I was there for a short while, but then at about 1.45 pm I drove off in my car intending to do something. I ended up driving about 15 miles and ended up near Durdle Door, a well known spot on the south coast. I parked my car on the road which was above some cliffs.

I was thinking this was it, I was going to go to hell, I was condemned, I was in mental agony, thinking of killing myself. I wrote a suicide note. I had visions of jumping off the cliffs and then being sentenced to judgement once I was dead. My mind was well ******. Of course I never did it, I don’t like heights anyway and was too chicken to jump off cliffs. All sorts of thoughts were racing round my head, I thought I was cursed or evil or something. Anyway, I was still there in the evening, it was winter so it was quite cold.  I didn’t go back home, and I later found that my housemates were extremely worried that night. Instead, I slept in my car, in the boot, I don’t think I was even that cold, might have put the boot cover on top. I felt like refuse and dirt.

It’s not a busy road where I was and so there probably weren’t many cars that came past that night. I did wake up that morning and was in a mental hell hole, I got out of the car and my legs felt funny, although I was able to walk for a little bit. I walked for a little bit down at the well known resort of Lulworth Cove, which was near where I had been the previous night. I was as good as dead and over and I think was fairly oblivious to the movement of people around me.

I eventually drove to Corfe Castle a few miles away and left my car there. I think I arrived there mid morning. There was a text message from someone who was looking out for me, which made me upset because I was gone and there was nothing anyone could do. I wandered aimlessly around there for a bit. In the afternoon, I felt like the bible character Judas, who betrayed Jesus and committed suicide, I thought I was going to follow the same path. I wandered in some nearby woods and was looking for trees where I could find some way to hang herself. Didn’t do anything, would have been hard to kill myself that way anyway. Went up onto a hill and walked around. A friend of mine, JP, was trying to call me several times but I didn’t answer any of his calls. By now it was the afternoon, my Dad was trying to get hold of me. I was like scum and my life was finished, I didn’t see why anyone should care if my life was as good as over. Miraculously, I answered one of his calls and told him where I was and where I’d meet my parents (in the centre of the village). They were going to report me as a missing person because I hadn’t been home the previous night and hadn’t been in touch with anyone for a day.

I did go where I said I would and they picked me up when they got there. I believed that I was cursed by God or something, when I got back to my parents house I foolishly read the bible in the evil book of Revelation, at the part where it talks about the ‘bowls of God’s anger’ and the fire that will burn people who face his wrath, I had visions of being one of them. Nice. My parents phoned my doctor for an emergency appointment, as if a doctor would have been able to help someone as tormented as I was, but anyway, we got there, and the doctor gave two options, one of which was to arrange for me to go to the local mental hospital, St Anns, which we agreed. I arrived at St Ann’s on Thursday, January 26th, 2006, at around 8.30 pm. Story of my hospital stay to follow next.

story episode 1

Right, this is going to be a project that will take some hours and effort. I want to go through the story of what happened in 2006, my breakdown, and also eventual recovery.

Let me just give you a brief bit of background info before the real thing – okay well I had quite a crappy childhood and turned to Christianity in 1991, when I was 16. I spent a long time in a church which I now consider to be a cult, although the leaders there might be well meaning. Religion helped me in a lot of ways, I couldn’t imagine life without it, always had low SELF esteem but I kept my eyes firmly on Jesus to save me from my sinful self. Seriously. Anyway, I had already had a horrible period in 2001 but somehow regained my faith. Life was ticking along okay although I’d had some bad patches.

So anyway. Last Sunday of 2005 I was in church, playing the saxophone as I had done for years. I felt okay. I went to the front to be prayed for – I think the reason I went for prayer was to sort out some issues and move forward with ‘God’ and with life. I might have felt a little bit edgy at the time. December 31st, New Year’s Eve, was persuaded to go to the party at church even though I would probably have rather spent New Year with another group of Christian friends.

There was a girl at church who I had liked for some time, but for a number of reasons had never got to asking her out. Most of the single guys at church had liked her at some point. I kind of suspected that my best friend at church liked her, although he had never told me up to now, which made things perhaps a little complicated. Anyways he was talking her most of the evening which made me feel a little upset and probably jealous. I did join in with some games and stuff but my evening had been a bit ruined. Incase you hadn’t guessed, I was very insecure at the time

I went back home – I was living with an Indian couple at the time. Some friends of mine, also from church, came round for a bit – although I didn’t really join them – I told them I wasn’t feeling that great. My feelings for this person had been strong and perhaps I sensed that nothing was ever going to happen.

I was turning to God for help, putting my hope in him, that I would remain strong and keep my eyes on Jesus. A few days later, I was at a leaving do for a friend who was going to work for a Christian organisation in South Africa for a year. I had questioned my sexuality at times, partly because my mind was messed up and partly because of the standards I was supposed to live up to as a Christian. There was a bloke there who was and still is a friend who I had some kind of feelings for – they were never sexual but I did wonder if they were, and my mind was going round in circles – a few thoughts started and soon my mind was out of control.

With these thoughts relating to homosexuality and the general condemnation I felt, one thing spiralled after another. I can’t remember every single thought in sequence, but I soon knew that things were a bit wrong. Pretty soon afterwards I had feelings of guilt and the fear that I was going to hell. A friend of mine kind of knew and he was trying his best to encourage me by sending emails to my work address – I was at work for the first two or three weeks of the year.

I don’t remember every single evening but I remember the feeling that I was at least on the verge of being cut off from God, and I was reading books which made me wonder whether I was about to commit the unpardonable sin of turning away from God altogether. One evening I couldn’t get to sleep, I went outside in the early hours of the morning even though it was very cold and went into the car just trying to calm my crazy mind down. Don’t think it worked. I remember standing outside and saying to ‘God’ something like ‘If I’m going to hell, let me die now’ or it might have been ‘Keep me alive if I’m not going to hell’. It was rather crazy.

I had told my boss that I was going through a really hard time, she was a lovely person and was very understanding, although there wasn’t a great deal she could do to help. I was struggling with condemnation, thinking I was going to hell, thinking that I had turned away from God, couldn’t see a way out.

There was a wedding at church on Saturday 21st January 2006, which I went to, but I was already feeling condemned and some people in church knew I was struggling. I didn’t really concentrate too much on the wedding. I even texted the church pastor later saying I urgently needed to talk because I was on the verge of destruction. For reasons which were legitimate, he asked if I could speak to him the Sunday morning. I went to the wedding reception but soon walked out and said to someone I knew that I’d had enough of life. I went to sit in my car. A good friend of mine came out and chatted to me. I had made some notes the previous night of some things that were bugging me – it was about 6 pages long!! I can’t remember exactly what most of them were, but I do remember that my mind was hugely, hugely messed up. I read the whole essay to John and he listened even though he must have thought I was a weirdo. A lot later I went back into the wedding reception and sat down for a little while and then said goodbye to the people who had just got married.

Next morning at church, I was feeling ‘cut off’ from God and felt he had abandoned me, or I had abandoned him, and felt tremendous guilt. I couldn’t really concentrate on the band practice, and I walked out to my car and shouted ‘Jesus have mercy on my soul’ quite a few times. Condemnation and dread was heavy on me. I was persuaded to go back in and somehow made it through the morning service. After the service finished, I went upstairs to the pastors office with John and read out the exact same thing that I had read to John. There was all sorts of garbage in what I said, but the pastor said something like ‘You’ve brought these things into the open, now you’re free’ and he prayed for me I think. I felt a bit better after I had left the service.

It didn’t last.

On the Tuesday morning, I could hardly concentrate on work at all. At mid morning I asked a workmate friend of mine, older guy who is a Christian, if I could have a word with him. I basically told him that I was going to commit suicide. I felt completely in fear, thinking that I was going to burn in hell forever, couldn’t see a way out. Of course if all that rubbish was true then suicide would have made things even worse, but you can’t really think straight when you’re as terrorised as that. He tried to encourage me and said that God had chosen me etc. He was helpful and helped pacify me a bit. I think he advised me to go home for the day, which I did.

I think it was that afternoon that I drove around a bit feeling condemned and wondering what effect my situation would have on other people, and also remember that feeling of sheer terror in thinking that I really was going to be condemned to judgement, eternal judgement, it was frightening. That evening I went to see a Christian friend who lived just across the road from me at the time, he’s a good, caring guy and it was good to chat to him, he put some music on which I really liked. I had told him I was going through a rough time so he invited me over. I then went back home and went to sleep for a bit….

But that (Wednesday) morning I woke about erm 4 o’clock or just after feeling completely suicidal. The various mind games which had completely taken hold of me were destroying me, and I just felt that this was it, I was done for. I phoned my parents about 5.30 in the morning and said something like I was going to kill myself, which scared them obviously. I drove round there soon afterwards and said some of the things that were going on in my head. I was supposed to start work at 8.00, I wasn’t intending to turn up at all but my parents encouraged me to go back home and get changed and I said I’d be in work a little late. I think I arrived just after 8.30.

Here it is

A blog solely dedicated to my life story, the main topic is what happened in 2006 but no doubt there’ll be other bits added aswell. First off I’m copying a few bits I already posted on my previous blog.