My story
So you might ask what qualifies me to create a site about suicide? Well, perhaps like you, I had a number of times in my life where I spent hours, and days, trawling through the web for information on how to best kill myself. On the outside, people would describe me as a pretty normal type of guy. Loving family, good job, success at my pastimes, including national championships at softball and dancing. Good friends, nice flat, classy car, financially secure, tall and in great physical shape. On the face of it, probably the last person you'd think would want to kill themselves. But as you'll probably know, what people see on the outside, and what goes on inside, are often very different.....
In 2002, after already suffering from depression for a couple of years and having thought about, and planned, suicide a few times, I had a disastrous relationship which ended just after my 34th birthday. I felt there was no joy left in my life, never would be, and my work colleagues, family and friends could all cope quite well without me. I had nothing left I wanted to live for, and felt there never would be.
I hadn't managed to get hold of any lethal barbiturates, but had a decent stock of sleeping pills obtained specifically for killing myself. So on Sunday 2 November 2002, having already written and printed my suicide note and got all my financial affairs in order, I went out to buy some Vodka to wash the pills down with. I came home, laid out the tamazepam on the table, then with no hesitation, took every pill I had.
Knowing that the pills alone would not be enough to kill me, I had a black rubbish bag and tape at the ready. I laid down on my bed, and calmly tried to tape the bag around my head. One problem though - I didn't want to feel like I was suffocating! I wanted to pass out then suffocate. Painless. And while I was fiddling around trying to get enough air in the bag to not suffocate, I passed out.
I woke up I don't know how many hours later - it was still light on the same day. Still can't believe I did not stay asleep for longer. I remember throwing up from the Vodka (wasn't a drinker, although maybe it was the quantity of pills), feeling like shit, and being bitterly disappointed I was still alive.
So, with my sleeping pill stash finished, the next best option seemed to be to find a building taller than 10 stories to jump off. Found a block of flats, but no roof access! So went to a nearby hotel which must have been at least 15 stories high. But again, roof access locked. And no windows in the stairwell opened. So I was standing there, in there stairwell, wondering how the hell I could find a window that would open, when my sister rang. She asked if I'd come over and watch a DVD with my niece. Didn't want to, but she talked me round - maybe she sniffed the depression in my voice. In the company of family, the hold that suicide had over me was broken. Which just shows how powerful it can be speaking to someone when you are on the verge.
This site is being built close to seven years after that day. I can't say that in the intervening period I have never felt suicidal again, as I have - many times. My Will has been revised and financial affairs tidied many times. I got a new stash of Tamazepam from a doctor in Australia who did not know of my suicidal exploits, but I knew that to do a good job of killing myself, I really needed to have the guts to shoot, hang or gas myself, throw myself under a train, or find some good barbiturates.
Even within the last couple of years I tried to get hold of some seconal, but my efforts came to nothing. Then I did a course, Broadband Consciousness, and was posed the question: "what do I have to do to feel enough". I'd tried sport. No amount of wins seemed to do the trick - not even winning national or international competitions. I tried dancing. Same story. Career? I had always done well at work, but it was not enough. Charity work? Truth was, whatever I did, or donated, I felt I was playing small and should be doing more.....
Then I had a moment of clarity. It did not matter what I achieved; how successful the charity work; how good a relationship I had. It would NEVER be enough. It was put to me that no amount of achieving, or doing, would ever make me feel like I was enough. What I needed to realise was that I am enough as I am. And boy, does that line of thinking relieve a lot of pressure.
And it was suggested that maybe I should be helping people that have been suicidal like I was, and, with thanks to Richard Wilkins and Liz Ivory for the idea, the concept of Lost All Hope was born.
At the end of the day, someone can make their life worthwhile by so many things. Say you give £20 to a third world charity, and that feeds someone for a few months - you've made a real difference to someone's life. Say you help a friend or family member that is really down - you've made a difference. Say you don't put people that know you through the terrible trauma of coping with your death? That could be huge....
Nov 2011 update. It has now been 2 years since I wrote this website, and I wanted to update my story. I wish I could write I feel happy and well adjusted, but I would be lying. I can say that in the past two years there have been good times as well as bad. Most the time I don’t think about killing myself. Some times I am positively glad I did not succeed back in 2002.
I am saddened at the large number of visitors that find their way onto this site – suicidal unhappiness is a major problem. We seem to live in a world of rising living standards but falling happiness. I feel for the loneliness and loss of hope most readers feel. I am touched by the many people that take the time to write in with their feedback on the site – it makes having created it worth the effort, and sometimes reassures me that this site does good.
I’ve worked hard on myself these past two years. I am still screwed up 
. Hopefully I understand how and why a bit better now, which I can only hope is a step in the direction of being less screwed up. I’ve discovered that love and connection with others makes a massive difference in life. Maybe all the difference. If only those things weren’t so hard to come by. Or maybe I should say it is a shame we seem to make them so difficult….
But I look back on two years where I think I have made a difference in the world. Life does have an ebb and flow, and isn’t all bad. Although I am sure that anyone in a dark place reading this will struggle to believe that. But try to believe it anyway.
So please, read on in this site starting with Help me.