So since you last heard from me I... took an overdose.
Tuesday afternoon, a silly argument and the rest of my medication was down the hatch, as they say. The paramedics were lovely, the nurses were lovely but my mind was not. I discharged myself against medical advice after 5 hours of blood tests and ECGs and an IV drip. I had a splitting headache and felt violently sick - but I wanted to be home.
I had some apologising to do, to friends and to family and most of all to my boys. I will never be able to apologise enough, because I tore our family apart. I was selfish and I know it now.
The voices are back - telling me I should be dead, even that I might still die because I left hospital early. But I do have an appointment with a lovely psychiatrist on Monday and hopefully he will help me.
Also I got a tattoo, a beautiful butterfly. It's on my last scar-free patch of skin under my wrist and I hope its beauty and the difficult times I got it in, along with the beautiful man who gave me the confidence to do something for myself, will help me to positively see my way through future patches of depression and despair.