Robin Williams & lots of talk about suicide. / 12 August 2014
In the wake of Robin Williams death, at the time I’m writing this there’s still no confirmation of how (do we really need to know?) but there’s a lot of talk about suicide.
With this in mind, here’s a couple of scenes from my one man play, written last year, and based on personal experience I had some years ago.
I feel distant from these feelings now, and am grateful for that, as its allowed me to write about it in this and my book. I will never forget that I’m one of the lucky ones.
The show has been my most successful in terms of script writing, and has already had a number of successful performances. Maybe I should take it to Edinburgh?
Sam: When we have past lives, we keep having them until we get it right.
I have no memory of this in a past life.
And no idea why it happened.
It continued for days.
Days turned into weeks
Weeks turned into months.
I couldn’t remember feeling well.
I couldn’t remember not feeling angry
I couldn’t remember being happy.
I had these thoughts, these delusions in my head
and it felt like that’s all that was there.
Whatever knowledge I had, whatever dreams I had
couldn’t get through because there was only violence in my head and it was all against me.
After four months it got unbearable.
At 3am I got dressed, and went out.
Walked in the fields.
Cold. Dark. Alone.
Shouting, Screaming, lashing out at nothing in front of me
because it was all in my head.
I just couldn’t get it out.
made my way back.
Still crying when I got home.
Didn’t wake anyone else up.
So no one knew.
(He sits in one of the chairs)
Next day I went to my doctor but I couldn’t describe what was wrong with me.
So he gave me sleeping tablets.
Seriously, sleeping tablets, are you fucking kidding me?
I went home not knowing what was wrong with me.
Still no diagnosis.
Still no idea.
I tried not thinking about it.
I started taking the tablets.
But they didn’t help.
So I took them all.
Well, I stopped half way, got scared.
Didn’t know what to do.
Went to bed.
Woke up next morning.
Carried on as normal.
Next night I did the same thing.
Took the rest of the bottle.
Woke up next morning.
Went back to doctors
I was already on the waiting list for therapy see.
So it was fine.
I got told to go home and sleep it off.
That was it.
(He lies under the duvet)
Got home and got back to bed
and I Lay there, feeling –
Not knowing what to think.
Not knowing what to say.
I was staring the lock as if it might force itself open and pull me towards the door.
Pulling me as I cling to my bed, my duvet pulled right over me
Saying to myself over and over
“I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die,
I don’t want to die"
2am turns to 3am.
The clock getting blurrier as I close my eyes and then finally I fall to sleep.
The thing is, when you’re in that place you can’t think of anything else.
I couldn’t remember ever feeling happy, or remember ever feeling as if anything else mattered.
I couldn’t remember being well, I couldn’t remember that I had a past, and most important of all, that I had a future.
Keywords: mental health,suicide