Extract from "Me and My Black Dog: A truly disturbing story about a Falklands/SAS veteran’s battle with PTSD By P T Saunders

Once I had demolished my breakfast, I made my way into the city to find myself a cheap B&B for the night. A majority of the B&B’s close to town were too expensive at £70-80 per night, so, I headed down Warwick Road where I found one charging just £35. It was basic but clean and comfortable. I had a quick shower and brushed my teeth, before going for yet another long walk up Kingmoor Wood.

Kingmoor was a very secluded wood that stretched between Kingmoor Road and Scotland road, “It would make a good place to top yourself. Quiet and lots of good strong trees from which to hang oneself.”  I thought, as I made my way to it. I knew I wasn’t going to top myself there and then. I was simply on a recce.

After witnessing Daniel’s attempt at hanging himself, and seeing him a few days later in a vegitive state. I wanted to make sure that should I choose that option, it needed it to be a hundred percent successful!

When I eventually arrived at the wood, I searched for an appropriate tree i.e. one that was high and strong enough to take my weight but also easily accessible and more importantly, one that was off the beaten track. I didn’t want some do-gooder saving me at the last minute. The last thing I wanted was to end up like Daniel. Still mentally tortured, but unable to physically do anything about it.

Unfortunately, none of the trees were suitable, and the wood had become a lot more populated since the last time that I was there. Now it was full of dog walkers and mothers with their tots, taking what I presume was a shortcut to school. After a few hours of sitting on a bench people watching, I decided that Kingmoor was not the right place to top myself. So, I made my way back to the B&B for some much-needed sleep. That night, I had another weird nightmare

I dreamt that I woke up the following morning and decided enough was enough, and that I definitely wanted out of this world. I made my way to B&Q and purchased a pack of heavy-duty ratchet straps before making my way to Kingmoor. It was early in the morning, and Kingmoor was quiet. I tied the two ratchet straps together, climbed a suitable tree, and after attaching one end of the ratchet strap to the tree and the other around my neck, I jumped.

I was expecting to hear the cracking sound of my neck breaking just before losing consciousness, as I plunged toward the ground. I didn’t hear the crack, nor did I plunge. Instead By body seem to fall in slow motion and as it did, I felt the ratchet strap gradually-tighten around my neck. Instead of dying instantly with a snap, I was gradually being strangled. I tried to speed up the process by wriggling. As I did so I suddenly became aware that the wood was now heavily populated and the same people and their dogs and kids were standing there at the base of the tree, watching me slowly die, whilst eating sandwiches. I wriggled once more, and shouted some expletive or another at them, before waking up in a sweat back at the B&B.

That dream had a life changing effect. An hour or so after waking from it, I decided that it was once again time to seek professional help. I walked to the hospital in Carlisle. Where I explained that I was having suicidal thoughts and asked to speak to the on-call psychologist.

Ten minutes later I was sat in a private room re-living the last few days to a psychiatrist and a psychiatric nurse, John (name changed). Both of them were shocked at how I was discharged without any support from social services.      

Two hours later, and after I agreed not to attempt to take my life for the next 24 hours, John and I agreed to meet again the following morning. 

During our meeting the following day, John contacted Carlisle council. Between them, they arranged for me to spend the next few weeks in a fully furnished one-bedroomed flat. They also put me in touch with a housing charity, who four weeks later helped me secure a one-bed bungalow in a delightful village on the outskirts of Carlisle.            

For the next two years the Carlisle Mental Health Trust provided me with continued support and arranged for me to see a Psychotherapist every fortnight.

The help and therapy that I received from the various agency’s in Carlisle was second to none. They should be proud of the care they provide. I am so grateful to them. I can honestly say that they saved my life. Thank You.

Me and my Black Dog is available on Amazon , and all online book stores.

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