Foxes saved my life; I’m not even kidding.
2 weeks after having W, I couldn’t cope. I was crying multiple times every single day, feeling exhausted but rarely sleeping and I couldn’t fathom how to do the simplest of tasks like boil the kettle or cook pasta.
I refused to see anyone without showering, blow drying my hair and full make up and I couldn’t rest knowing there were things to be done around the house. I was crashing out but my mind was travelling at 100mph, so fast that I couldn’t string any thoughts together coherently and was tripping over sentences because I couldn’t formulate them as fast as I was thinking.
I was living as though W didn’t exist; doing all the necessary things to ensure he was safe and looked after, but not spending any other time with him other than that. When he cried, I felt nothing, not even the urge to pick him up and comfort him.
I began having suicidal thoughts regularly from this point onwards; ways that I could eliminate myself from the equation to ensure W had the best start in life with a Dad and family who loved him dearly. I just didn’t want to exist; I felt worthless, like there was no value to my being on this Earth. I’d be driving and imagine myself driving into a car in the oncoming lane, or pulling out of a junction in front of a car, I thought about jumping in the canal or overdosing. But, foxes saved me from the most frequent thought coming to fruition.
One particular day, I had gone to a local shopping centre, on my own as my mum was looking after William. As I was walking round, I realised I couldn’t breathe properly and was getting panicked at the noise and number of cars driving round. I was walked as close to the wall as I could and desperately wanted it to swallow me into nothingness so I could disappear. I was terrified of seeing anyone I knew and I was sweating profusely and tremoring. I had to get back to my car. I drove to the back of the supermarket next door, right to far end of the car park where it was quiet and called the Crisis Team. By this point, I was struggling to catch breathe and felt like everything around me wasn’t real; I can’t really describe it but to say I felt like the world was imploding and at that point I knew, that whatever way I did it, I would eventually do something.
My Crisis Coordinator who had known about these thoughts said to me once I was slightly calmer; ‘I want you to drive straight home and call me as soon as you get there.’
The following day, I did something I’d been doing for a while and walked to the bridge over a dual carriageway about 500 yards from my house. I’d been sitting at the edge of the bridge the last couple of days looking at the cars whizzing past and wondering whether it would do the job or not or whether if someone hit me, it would ruin their life. But that day, I walked up with purpose and stood against the railings, willing myself to end it, foot on the metal.
But then…I heard a rustling from the edge of the bridge and a little blob of red caught my eye; a tiny baby fox cub. As an animal lover, I was as intrigued to seem them up close as they were to see me, so I once again sat on the railing and watched it as it was joined by its two siblings. I must’ve sat for an hour just watching them play and approach me only to back off at the last minute and it drew my mind away from the edge of the railing to their antics.
Unfortunately, whilst it did draw me away from jumping off the bridge, just a day later I cleared out the entire medicine cabinet of codeine, diazepam, paracetamol and ibuprofen which led to my hospitalisation however, I think it’s obvious that unless for those foxes, I probably wouldn’t be alive today.
Here’s a photo of the little scamps: