Suicidal Ideation…
23rd September 2025
Hello my most beautiful and precious starshine {} xxx
This is a continuation of my last letter. My brain is busy working on it. I know it needs to, but I wish it waited one more week.
I always didn’t want to be here after my mum died. I just wanted to join her and be with her. My world turned cold and dark after I lost her.
I’ve realised the suicidal thoughts began after he raped me in 1988, which led me to taking the overdose in 1990, a few months before my GCSE exams. I was desperate and couldn’t see another way out. As well as my dad, the aunt who was bullying me added to it. I did write a note and said how I was feeling.
I took about 50 paracetamols that evening, before my dad returned from work. I was very lucky I threw up. It was all over the carpet in the bedroom. My dad found me lying on the floor beside it. Was it a desperate cry for help?
He was concerned that evening but it didn’t last long. I have him the letter and he read it. I remember the aunt popping her head in the room to see what was happening. She saw me lying in my vomit and quickly disappeared. I was pretty much out of it.
I know I had to clean myself up, but I can’t remember doing that now. I do remember needing to go to school the following day. Of course my dad couldn’t take me to the doctor. He wouldn’t want anyone knowing. I remember feeling extremely ill. My tummy was hurting. I remember sitting in my physics class, not being able to concentrate.
I can’t remember how my dad was with me afterwards. I’m not sure if we talked about it. It’s very unlikely. He would’ve avoided it like he did everything else. Was he nicer to me? I honestly don’t know. All I remember is him always throwing it back at me during his violent rages.
He always said he wished I’d died instead of my mum. I now think he genuinely meant it. Despite searching for a wife, he was still missing and grieving for my mum. I really wished I’d died as well.
Although I had blocked the memories of the rape in 1988, I can now see its effects manifesting in other ways. Suicidal thoughts was just one. I never made this connection before. That timeline is really helping.
I really was expected just to get on with things as if nothing had happened. I think this is why it’s so difficult for me to seek help when I really need it. My doctor noticed this as well. He told me I need to see them as soon as the severe symptoms start, and not wait.
I seem to be able to tolerate a lot, especially when it comes to my health, but I think it’s because of how my dad and family were with me. They dismissed so much, and didn’t help when I desperately needed it. I was expected to be fine with everything that was happening to me. The message I learnt was that I deserved it, and that there was no help available even if I asked, so I shouldn’t ask.
I was extremely lucky this year, with the long overdue blood test picking up the severe anaemia. I was doing my best to ignore the frightening symptoms. I was putting my health at risk, and possibly my life.
I don’t think I really value my life or my existence, but this is a result of what I experienced after my mum died. It’s a result of how my dad and his side of the family were with me, and the effects of the physical, verbal and sexual abuse.
My dad didn’t value me at all. I was his daughter only by name. He was never a father, and I now understand that he wasn’t capable of being one. I was desperate for him to love me like my mum did. I still am, despite having just one brief contact with him in thirty-two years.
I can’t tell you how many times I wished I was never born. I could never understand why I’m here. Getting this illness amplified it because I can’t even look after myself anymore. What’s my purpose? What’s the point of me being here?
Yes, the cruel words from my dad wishing I’d died seeped in and became ingrained. They became a part of my narrative, and a part of my core beliefs – my life and I are worthless. I’m unlovable and I shouldn’t be here. Now I know why I keep getting these thoughts and feelings. It feels like what he did in 1988 was the final straw, but it didn’t completely break me. He tried so hard.
I’ve had a much needed cry writing this. I’m still trying to contain everything so that I’m well enough for my appointments. What was I thinking booking so many appointments close together?!! One a week is the absolute maximum, not two, regardless if they’re in person or from home. I need to get through the next week.
Body’s struggling to recover. Sleep isn’t good either. Sleep really has a huge impact on my symptoms. My heart rate variable is still surprising me. It is higher since the iron infusions, so it’s normal despite feeling very ill.
It’s 15.22. I hope you’re thoroughly enjoying seeing coffee with sunshine. They’ll give you lots of warm hugs and kisses from me as well {} xx
I hope you’re keeping really well my lovely, and you’re having a wonderful day. I hope it’s not too full on. You haven’t got long to go now. Sun can’t wait to come home with you.
Take the greatest and gentlest care of yourself my beautiful sweetheart. Please do something wonderful to nourish your precious soul tonight, and love every moment for me too {} xxx
I love you so much and I’m hugging you extremely tightly {} xxxx It’s 15.51.