Well, where do I begin?
I'm a 25 year old male, who had everything a man could want. I was in a relationship with the love of my life, we were due to get married this year on the 18th August, and we also have a beautiful daughter together. The relationship wasn’t easy because myself, and my ex-partner either got on very well, or it would be really sour. It started getting to the point in which I'd rather be at work, than be home because of the arguing. It took me long enough to realise that I was the reason the arguments were being caused. What started off as a few bets here and there, ended up in the breakdown of my relationship. I had letters coming every day from the bank, which would mean I'd have to be the first one to the door every morning. The end of the relationship came when my partner found emails from my bank, regarding an excessive amount I owed. It was at this point I realised, I had ruined everything. My ex-partner was hysterical, and it was all my fault. What had gone from arguing every other day over petty stuff, now had become very serious, because of my gambling addiction. I had to be the one to end the relationship, because I felt like I had let everyone around me down. I felt I didn't deserve the title 'dad', and that's really when my whole world stopped. It was February 2017 when our relationship came to an end, and at first it didn't really hit me too hard. I hadn't had "freedom" whilst I was with my ex, and often moaned about going back to my life before I got with her, which included drugs. A few months passed after we split up, and then I realised this burning sensation in my heart wasn't going away. I realised I was an idiot, and had done so much wrong. My ex-partner eventually moved on, and that was when my world went silent. "Love", I'd say it's the most powerful drug there is. The feeling of utter happiness, and knowing that you've found your soul mate, the person you can speak to about ANYTHING! I just didn't realize what would happen next, and how emotionally broken I was. My partner no longer loved me, and someone else had made her happy. I can remember just being laid in bed, in a dark room with no emotion. I had never experienced this feeling before, of feeling worthless. Within seconds of finding out my ex-partner had moved on, I started to discover emotions I never knew existed. I started crying, but really crying. This wasn't like me, nothing had ever hit me so hard. Then, I'm sending a message to a guy I know who sells prescribed drugs. Not with the intention of becoming high, but because I no longer wanted to be alive. I cannot even sit here, and try to explain the feelings, and what was going on in my head. The reason for that, is because I don't know myself. All I knew was I no longer wanted to be alive. Within half an hour of finding out my ex had moved on, I was now waiting on a drug dealer to drop me a box of 10mg Valium tablets. I had never taken these tablets before, and I didn't really know what they would do. I can remember crying my eyes out in bed, smashing my head off of the wall, just in utter chaos. Then I knew it was time, and I decided to start taking the tablets. Within less than 5 minutes, I had taken 80 single Valium tablets, because I no longer wanted to be alive. I couldn't tell you what happened next, as everything just vanished from my life. I had the police, the ambulance, my friends all at my house, with no idea what has happened. I was always the fun, and lively character within my friend circle, and no one could believe this had happened. I was rushed into hospital, and ended up spending a few days there to have my stomach pumped out, and to check I was going to be ok. This was the first time I had ever attempted suicide, and now I felt even worse. I was angry, purely because I was still alive, and this horrible pain was in my heart. Now, I've broken my ankle before which required surgery, I've had my appendix burst whilst I've been awake. That was painful, however NOTHING compared to this pain. Only people who have experienced a mental breakdown will know exactly what I'm on about, because it's impossible to describe what's going on. I live on a place called the Isle of Wight, and I'll cut straight to the point. The mental health services on this island? Well, they might as well be non-existent. I had attempted to take my own life, I had been stuck in hospital for a few days because of this, and now I was being discharged without any reasonable aftercare. I wasn't sectioned, or even remotely spoken too about "why" I had done this. I was taken home from the hospital, to my friend's house, and I can just remember laying in bed thinking , " I've got to go" . I realised that the suicidal thoughts had only just started, however I was so weak, and full of medication to even be able to get up out of bed. Then the doctors came round the next day for a chat, they wanted to know what triggered this to happen. I can remember being laid in bed, and saying to the doctor, "if I could drive now, I'd be driving straight off of Culver cliff". Culver cliff is located on the Isle of Wight, and it's the place where people unfortunately go to take their own lives. I had gone from never in 25 years of being alive suffering from suicidal thoughts, to now it's all I could think about. A few days later, I had taken another overdose. This time, the medication was Sertraline, and wow it was like living hell. I was taking these overdoses because I didn’t't want to live, and I knew what the side effects would be from the drug if it didn't kill me. I can remember taking numerous tablets, in an excess of about 50. I'm not going to go into full detail of what happened, but look up the side effects online, and you'll understand. I still had not been sectioned, I was crying out for help, but yet nobody seemed to care. I remember thinking, it's not that I want to die, it's that I no longer want to live. That probably makes no sense to most, but sense to some. This was last November all of this happened, it's now September 2018, and my struggles continue. I was diagnosed with Bipolar from the doctors, and was instantly put on medication. I was given a drug called quetiapine, which I personally hated with a passion. The expression "feeling like a zombie" is real, you can't process anything in your brain because you feel like a potato. I decided to take myself off of the medication, because I didn't want to feel zoned out all of the time. Unfortunately, I should have probably carried on taken the medication as this lead to several other suicide attempts up until this day.
The reason I decided to write this, was because I love Frank Bruno, and I love boxing. Medication works for some people, but I don't think in the long run it worked for me, so I decided to start boxing again. Now, I'm 25 years old, unfit, scrawny, but I have a dream. I started boxing when I was 13, and probably stopped by the time I was 14. I realised that I still had so much hate, and anger within myself that I needed to let out. I think in life, you have to do what makes you happy, and you have to believe in yourself. I've tried going back to work since my breakdown, I've probably had close to 10 jobs within the space of 18 months, but I now suffer with the worst anxiety. What I've realised, is that you have to change your life step by step, and there is no easy fix. It's taken me all this time to realise that, as I always hoped someone would click their fingers, and make everything better. In regards to suffering from anxiety, this prevents me from doing anything, to the point where I find it impossible just to walk down the road. I'm constantly worrying about how I look, how I am etc, and what others think. My anxiety also stopped me boxing again, because I was constantly worrying about not being good enough.
Everyone goes through hell in life, and I take my hats off to those who are battling struggles and managing them.
Life will deal you blows, but then it's down to you to deal the blows straight back. I will box again, I will find a way to beat this anxiety, and I WILL become a professional boxer.