I was lucky enough to have a contact whose step father is director of a clinic for mental health and managed to get a few emergency sessions with him over the phone. Since the pretty much all the doctors were on holiday over the Christmas period, it was the worst time to go looking for a therapist and in the end, I failed to do so. Quite simply, I also lacked the motivation and energy. Nevertheless, I managed to return to work in the new year, found some helpful colleagues and changed my working environment to a much more relaxed one.
W and I also began to seriously work through poly resources and resolve our conflicts and begin truly communicating honestly and openly. I’d recommended these resources for anyone at all – no matter what your sexual orientation or philosophy:
- Nonviolent Communication
- The Ethical Slut
- Opening Up
- Polyamory Weekly
- Pedestrian Polyamory
- Practical Polyamory
We figured out a framework for ourselves to live with our differences, we arranged regular talks in a neutral environment to discuss things that disturbed us or that we were unhappy about, we even took to talking about very emotionally-charged topics over instant messengers so that we wouldn’t feel the full force of each others emotions and feel defensive or angry at each other.
Through these efforts, I was certainly capable of working again and even some more normal social life, but it was only temporary because the reasons behind my initial breakdown were still unresolved. I was burning through my stores of energy faster than I could refill them with these techniques and I was still hemorrhaging love.
Finally, my batteries went flat and I bled out all my love. I began to research the lethality of various things in my environment. I didn’t think that I was really planning to kill myself, but somehow, my subconscious was leading me to figure out the “best” methods – the ones that wouldn’t need preparation or much courage and that would practically guarantee success. Then the crying fits returned and I began to feel good and relieved when trains went by fast or standing on a high balcony. As soon as I realised this, I began to live in fear of myself.