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Who will find me?

Who will find me?

For as long as I can remember I have wanted to die. No, that isn’t strictly true. I have always wanted to live life. I have adventurous dreams of things I would love to see, hear, taste, smell, feel and do. Vivid dreams that would carry me off to far away places and bring home memories to last my lifetime. My brain on the other hand, well my brain wants to die

My dreams remain dreams and I become oppressed by a thick fog. Choking on its sick and fatal fantasies. My lust for life and love dissipated and drenched with tears and self loathing. For as long as I can remember. 

Without warning the possession takes hold and I’m thrown into dark depths of despair. Peddling hard to survive its grip but etching closer and closer to its domination. I’m in pain, my head is throbbing with pain. My body is numb, numb of all feeling and emotion, dead

It talks to me. It calls out to me and tortures me. It riddles me with guilt. It forces me to stare back at myself in the mirror. I look into its eyes and I can see its selfish, ugly soul. I can see the hatred people feel towards him. I recognise these people. Members of my own family. They look sad. They’re tired. He did this to them. He drained their lives, their energy, their emotion. They loved him and now they are being punished

“Free them” He whispers into my mind. It’s me he wants. “Let go and set them free” he claims. 

He continues to torture me with his sick poison. I can’t run, can’t escape. All I can do is listen. He’s a manipulator, a liar, a fraud. He takes control of every fibre of your being to get what he wants. The torture can be a few hours, days, weeks, months even. You can’t shut it out. 

I battle, I fight back. It’s never easy, it’s always exhausting. There’s just one thought that I cling on to, a question I asked myself as a child when first faced with this evil entity. 

Who will find me?

Asking this question has given me strength after strength over the years. It’s thanks to this little question that I’am able to share this story. 

Losing someone to suicide is difficult enough, for me the thought of putting someone I love through the heartache of finding me is all the prevention I need. 
But I’m not sharing this for the patient. Chances are, like me, they have experienced this possession before and already dealing with it the best they can. The longer the battle, the more they will lose themselves amidst the smog that is depression. Turning into someone unrecognisable as the son, daughter, brother, sister, parent, grandparent or friend that you know and love. 

It’s so very important, that whilst they temporarily fade before you. Let them know you are there. Stand beside them. For if it is you that fades, then they are left with only one voice for company and no answer to the question that’s been blocking out that voice for years. 

Chances are when a person least deserves love, it’s in fact time time they need it most. 

Please share this message, you may just save a life. 


The only way to combat mental health stigma is to talk openly about mental health illness and educate ignorance. Let's see if we can do our bit and share our experiences...

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