Loving them is the most exquisite form of self destruction.

This whole "love" thing is awfully complicated.

Don't get me wrong being in love is amazing- if the feeling is reciprocated.

Otherwise it is just a whirlwind of pain,

At least that's what I used to believe.

You see, reader, I am as always going to let you in on a deep secret that I have discovered what love truly is.

Not infatuation, Not a common crush, Not a happily ever after unrealistic love story but a modern day love story with no ending for it has never begun.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and I am no believer of love at first sight but on more than one occasion has a beautiful man caught my eye.

However this person (I must shield their identity for obvious reasons) would not have caught my eye.

I find them attractive of course but that isn't why I love them.

I fell in love with their soul (I promise this isn't a cheesey declaration of love)

It was only until I really knew them, knew what kind of person they were.

Noone is perfect and I am under no illusion that this person is

Every imperfection, I admire and adore (or just tolerate).

-------------

This is the part where I tell you how magical it is to be in love and how we're going to runaway into the sunset?

Unfortunately in this love story the ending is unclear because this is just a chapter in the book but I can confidently say that we will never be together.

Oh don't feel sad, or give me that pitiful smile you give to a three legged puppy.

I knew this all along and I tried to prevent it but I could not stop loving them anymore than I could stop breathing.

*Cue the sad violin*

Just kidding, THIS ISN'T A SAD STORY.

*Cue happy chirpy music at the end of a RomCom that has nothing to do with the film*

Love is more than living happily ever after.

Love is more than waking up with the same person every morning.

Love is wanting them to be happy regardless of whether they are with you.

Love is wanting them to be safe and well but not wanting anything in return.

Maybe I could just be their Guardian Angel? Just without the wings and far less beautiful... Actually that would just make me seem like a stalker.

I will never ask for anything from them.

I will always be there for them.

I will just never be theirs.

Loving them is the most exquisite form of self destruction.

I felt proud to just be alive

"Sit down Amy, you look dreadful"

I always admired his honesty, many people tip toe around me and the fake compliments have grown tiresome.

I did look dreadful.

I hadn't slept in days, the only reason I was able to keep my eyes open was by drinking a cocktail of prescription medication and coffee.

"Tell me what's been going on since we last met"

This is the man who was there when I found out Charlotte died, he sat with me for a few hours until a family friend collected me to take me home.

He had dealt with thousands of students and patients, over 20 years working in mental health and well being and my case was one of the worst "Top five" he always said and definitely the most involved.

I hadn't seen him in over year, so there was a lot to explain and I knew there was no point hiding the truth.

He was a strange character, a rocker, motor bike rider and looked like a human sized Hagrid from Harry Potter, a great big beard, long hair and kind eyes.

I began to explain as best I could the current situation-

"I feel like whenever I leave the house I'm struck by lightening,

I am forever in the wrong place at the wrong time,

Facing painful consequences for other peoples actions which are not my fault,

Or dreadful things that are noones fault but yet I still must carry the burden as "That's life",

Well if that is life then I'm not sure I want to live it,"

You see most people at this point would freak out or tell me I'm being ridiculous but not him.

"Continue Amy, I know you're not done"

I couldn't help but smile, it was nice for once to have someone not change the subject or tell me "I just need to think positively", for someone to realise that this small rant was just a drop in the bucket.

"Firstly Charlotte died from a horrendous illness which ripped my family apart,

My parents proved they were too stubborn to be civil putting me into something worse than the hell I was already in,

The first man, man may be a strong word for now I know he was nothing more than a cowardly boy. broke my heart when Charlotte was dieing, I lost the two people I loved most in the world in the space of a few weeks,

I had to restart university with no friends, noone to talk too,

I fell in love with a man in my vulnerable state who abused and controlled me,

Taking photos to prove I was where I said I was,

Verbally abusing me to the point where I felt I would always be broken,

Threatening to kill himself if I left him trapping me and torturing me with his words,

I finally managed to leave him but still frequently receive abusive messages,

Then I was a victim of a serious sexual assault by someone I trusted,

I went to the police, I did everything they said, they gave me false hope and he is now free.

After hearing the news of him being released without charge I travelled home and as I set foot on the platform a man jumped infront of a train before my very eyes, I can still hear the sound of him hitting the train and the screams in my nightmare.

I had quite rightly given up on men until a reader of my blog gave me the support and affection I needed more than air but suddenly days after saying how much he liked me and would never hurt me because I had been hurt enough told me he had met the love of his life and whilst I was great she was better. Tearing down the little confidence I had left.

Then this weekend I went out for my birthday to bar and as I stood to order a drink I look to my right there was the man who attacked me,

I haven't been able to tell people what really happened, I just refer to it as an incident because I am ashamed something so small affected me so much,

All he did was grab me by the wrist and I just froze, paralyzed by my own pathetic fear then when I finally caught my breath I ran away like a coward.

That brings me to today"

I let out a deep sigh then looked up at him wiping tears from under his glasses, I realised as I had been speaking I was looking at the floor and hadn't actually monitored his reaction my only concern was to get it all out as quickly as possible as each word felt like a dagger in my heart.

"Amy, You trust me and you've known me many years.

How would you have reacted if I grabbed you by the wrist, right now, How would you feel?"

"Uncomfortable"

"Exactly, anyone to grab you like that is unacceptable but for the man who attacked you to do 

it? 

Terrifying, 

take away all the others things that happened to you, that alone is justifiable for you to feel this way,

On top of that you lost your sister which wasn't that long ago, you're still grieving for that,

Plus all these added heartache and stress,

Amy, Is it really a surprise you're suicidal?

I mean who wouldn't be,

I dare anyone to be in your position and be coping half as well as you are right now,

Of course you're struggling, It's amazing that you're here right now.

You're a hell of a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for so stop beating yourself up,

You're doing outstandingly well and the fact that you can sit there and list all these things you've 

survived proves to me that you can get through this too."

This whole time I have been feeling that I was a disappointment or not good enough but right then in that moment 

I felt proud to just be alive.

Suicide prevention

I feel like I should offer some more explanation to my previous blog post.

It should be clear by now that whilst I am frequently an emotional train wreck I do have a strong awareness of what I feel, why I feel it and how to move forward.

Now I'm not going to lie to you, I'm not magically better, I don't feel worse but I also don't feel any better.

Past Amy however is very good at taking precautions.

Ever since I was around 16 I have not allowed myself to control any drugs that I could over dose on, such as strong pain killers or certain sleeping pills.

If I need them they are given to someone else to hang onto so I do not have direct access to it.

I realise it makes me sound like a kid who can't open the child lock on the tablets but I know what I can get like.

The medication I take for my bi polar isn't kept all together, it's dotted about in different places and I never have more than a few weeks supply.

This prevents any impulsive suicide attempt.

Also working in my favour is that I faint at the site of blood, even the thought of blood or broken bones makes me feel sick this rules out any physical harm I could do to myself.

I used to burn myself, that didn't create any blood and was also very easy to explain if anyone asked "I caught my arm on the over" or "Burnt my hand straightening my hair".

I keep my straighteners out of my room downstairs so that if I was to want to harm myself I'd have to get out my dark room and walk downstairs and normally by this point there is a) Someone else in the house who will see me preventing me from doing it or b) By the time I've walked downstairs and got myself out of my room I've had second thoughts.

Suicide does take planning.

There are dark parts on the internet which encourage or give suggestions for suicide.

These are all blocked on my computer and phone, the blocker I use is protected by a password that I don't know so I can't take it down.

If I do type something to do with suicide it takes me to a helpline page.

I also have letters I've written to myself to explain why I need to live.

I'm fortunate to have a family who cares greatly for me and a few friends who want to help but just don't know what to do (it's ok I understand that).

My honesty about how I feel scares people and I don't mean to do that but surely that is better than me hiding.

I just wanted to reassure people that whilst they may not be able to save me, 

I can save myself.

Maybe life isn't for everyone

I have never been a lover of rain but as I walked the dark streets to work I felt relived to feel the cold water fall on my face.

It gave me the perfect disguise for my tears.

I am not an advocate for lying but I am a strong believer in pushing my problems on other people.

Everyone has their own demons and whilst it is important to ask for help there is a time and a place.

The bar where I work was not that place.

Luckily humans by nature are selfish and awkward so would therefore not pry of even ask if anything was wrong.

I was hoping that would work in my favour but as I walked behind the bar I saw a face that was destined to break me.

Here was someone who knew everything and more importantly knew me yet explaining to him what was wrong was an impossible task.

The incident that occurred yesterday is merely a drop in the bucket, the straw that broke that camels back because the reason for my tears were that of fear.

I am a scientist and my brain works logically in solving problems.

Which is useful for academic work but for emotional delicate situations like this, it is quite dangerous.

The phrase that keeps circling my brain and bringing tears to my eyes because it is a horrible truth.

I have been suicidal before but this is different.

My past interaction with suicidal thoughts were overwhelming emotion and needing to find an exit.

Right now I find myself thinking clearly and logically that:

if I am the architect of my own destruction,

if I attract heartbreak, 

if I am destined to be broken and

if after 23 years of fighting life has still beaten my down and broken me that

Maybe life isn't for everyone and

Maybe this life isn't for me.

I’d go through it all again just to hold her hand.

I thought I could save everyone.

I didn’t want to be the sun to light up their day but the moon to shine light in their darkest moments.

However it seems whilst I tried to fix these broken hearts, I myself was cut by the shattered pieces.

You know if I could I would take the pain away.

Even if it meant I felt more I would take it away, if it meant you would feel better.

Right now it feels like the people I’m trying to save aren’t getting better and I’m getting worse.

That’s the problem when you’re considered the strongest one, you must hold everyone up but no-one will ever offer you a hand.

I found myself falling into old habits, telling a lie, faking a smile, having something eat away at my head and heart but not having a soul I could trust it with.

I will tell it to you, reader.

Promise you will not pity me.

A night at the bar a girl had fallen and badly injured her knee.

I was working close down and whilst the bar was emptied of customers, the paramedics entered.

The girl was distressed and clutching onto the gas and air.

The cries of pain this girl made when they tried to move her.

Blood curdling.

It triggered something inside me.

In fact the situation was fairly familiar.

At the Children’s hospice, I had fallen asleep on an armchair in Charlotte’s room, refusing to leave her side.

My university books on my lap and my empty dinner plate on the floor, the nurses brought it in the room for me understanding my need to be with Charlotte (I also couldn’t bare the idea of sitting in the dining room and making small talk)

I was awoken by a boney tap on my shoulder, Charlotte even before she’d lost all the weight had incredibly boney fingers making her pokes very hard to ignore.

I instantly jumped from my chair and looked at the expression on her face followed by her hands (She was deaf and used sign language).

The nurses knew very little sign language so I was a vital translator- hence why I had to be there all the time.

She complained of a pain in her knee.

Now it is important to understand Charlotte had a high pain tolerance, having over 50 operations in her time she was rarely one to exaggerate when it came to pain.

We had a system, I would ask her on a scale from 1-10 how bad the pain was in order to figure out the seriousness.

Even when Charlotte had C-diff, Chicken pox internally and was in intensive care she only labelled pain at a 6.

So when she signed the number 8, I knew it was something serious.

Charlotte had lost a lot of weight by this point, so much so that her bones were beginning to break through her skin.

Mainly at the joints, so elbows and knees.

A nurse stood in front of me, waiting instruction, I knew nothing of medicine but I knew Charlotte like the back of my hand.

It was decided we needed to take the dressing off her knee, change it and up her pain medication.

Charlotte’s boney fingers gripped onto mine whilst we slowly moved her leg.

The cries of pain echoed through the hospice, my heart sinks just thinking about it.

Well that cry was parallel to the one I heard at the bar that night.

Suddenly I was back in that room, the smell of the chemicals from the medicine and the touch of Charlotte's hand in mine.

I was upset when I realised I wasn’t there, whilst that was one of the most horrendous things I’ve ever experienced-

I’d go through it all again just to hold her hand.

My one and only witness

Insanity- doing the same thing but expecting a different result.

I love this phrase.

In order to get better you have to change something which is perfectly logical.

Change, however is difficult.

The past two years of my life (of course there were gaps) I have been trapped in the relationship I previously discussed.

When I say trapped I'm not exaggerating, it is easy for you to look back on a past relationship and say how awful it was because of course you aren't together anymore.

This is someone who controlled what I wore, who I spoke too, where I went.

Being out of that is good don't be wrong but I am finding it difficult with the change.

I had someone who needed to know everything about me and whilst it is a relief not to have to go through that, it has left an empty space in my life.

There are times in the evening where I have no one to talk too, no one cares about my day, whether it was good or bad and so on.

I read once that being in a relationship or marriage even, is having someone witness your life.

I am just coming to terms with being my one and only witness.

One of the bravest and best decisions I've ever made.

Domestic abuse comes in different forms, you may not see the bruises but the psychological trauma leaves scars on both your brain and heart.

I never spoken about this before in great detail, mainly as the abuser frequently read my blog and I didn't want to aggravate him.

Even now typing to you, and I have shared some of my deepest secrets with you, I can feel a lump in my throat and I small voice is telling me to stop.

That is him.

That is months of continuous control and abuse engrained into my very being.

Here is the story.

At the start he was lovely, he said he was worried about me walking home from work 
so asked me to text him when I left and when I go there, I remember thinking how nice it was to have someone care.

In previous relationships I had always yearned to be defended, when other men grabbed or cat called me my previous boyfriends wouldn't react.

He was different, he would get into fights defending me, pull me closer and make sure I was ok.

I felt safe.

Until he became the one I was scared of.

If a man were to just look at me, I would feel the tight squeeze of his hand on my wrist and be terrified for when we get home to face his anger and accusations.

New Years Eve 2014/2015: 
I had been terribly ill with the flu and could barely get out of bed but I'd made reservations at a fancy restaurant for us. I dressed up despite having a fever and went out.

He was on his phone thorough the whole meal to his friend at a party a great distant away. 

I had hardly eaten any food due to feeling so faint and ill was focussing on just keeping awake.

I told him I could barely make it here let alone to a party across town.

He sighed and rolled his eyes, slammed his fist against the table and muttered "selfish cow".

I don't know whether it was my lack of sleep, illness or his disgusting behaviour but tears began to fill my eyes.

Aware I was in public and trying not to draw attention to myself I looked away to the hanging paintings in the restaurant.

The more I tried to stop crying, the more the tears began to fall it was like I could feel every one of his outbursts all at once, like punches to my stomach. 

We walked home in silence.

The ground was frozen over and all you could hear were the happy cheers of drunken people echo through the empty road.

When we got to the house, he went to bed without a word.

It was just 10.30pm.

I asked if he was going to stay up till midnight as we could still see the fireworks and count down on the tv.

He shouted in his aggressive voice that if he wasn't going to the party, he wasn't going to celebrate at all and my selfishness had ruined his night.

Still in my black dress I sat down in the darkness and cried.

I started to think of an escape plan, a way of me getting home to my parents but unfortunately there would be no taxis, everyone would of had too much to drink and I could hardly do an hours walk in my heels.

Instead I lay down on the cold leather sofa and cried myself to sleep.

You would think that alone would have been enough for me to leave but I stayed.

I stayed for 6 more months.

The controlling got worse.

It started as a text to let him know where I was, to a photo to prove I was where I said I was.

I wasn't allowed to see friends or talk to family about him, not the truth anyway.

He told me I wasn't allowed to speak to other men, that was when I first tried to break up with him, he told me that if I broke up with him he would kill himself.

I couldn't leave.

My friends told me that he was probably bluffing, but what if he wasn't? I would never be able to live with that guilt.

Daily accusations of cheating, followed by how no one would ever love me like he did.

No one would ever care for me like he did.

No one would ever put up with me, I was so difficult, so disgusting, No one else would find me desirable.

That if I left him I would die alone.

I did break up with him eventually, I firstly told him mum and dad so they could go round and make sure he didn't kill himself.

He contacted me a month ago saying how he was struggling and needed support.

Whilst it wasn't my place to do so anymore I couldn't just ignore him so I tried to help.

It was 10 o'clock I had just finished a 6.5 hour shift and was in tesco buying some dinner.

I had 5 missed called.

I answered the phone..

"Where have you been?"

"You finish work at 9.30 it is now 10 what have you been doing all this time?"

That is when I realised that I do not have the energy to do this all over again.

I am not being dragged back into that hell of a relationship.

I refuse to be treated that way again.

I hung up the phone and blocked his number.

One of the bravest and best decisions I've ever made.