On Sunday we had an epic argument, and I told her I was done with this. Immediately she started sobbing and pleading for me not to go. She actually vomited. I didn't move on this, because usually my biggest weakness is that I always put on the hero cape when there's a damsel in distress, but I'd been stressed out for months by this point.

On Monday morning she asked if she could pick me up and drive me to work, and I agreed. She really hoped I'd changed my mind, but I hadn't. I said I needed space and I couldn't reassure her that we'd be fine, because we weren't. She started using catastrophic language. I told her I had to go. So I went to the office, she drove off.

About an hour later I started to get some concerning messages from her. "I'm going to sleep, I love you". I mean it was 10am. I asked her friends if they could check on her, and they all said the same thing: she'd sent them a concerning message too and hadn't replied to their messages, which is very out of character. I texted her closest friend who said she'd received a message with the password to her laptop and phone.

I called the police, gave them all the details, and told my line manager at work (who happens to be a friend of hers, we'll call him Steve) and we immediately went out looking for her.

We found her car abandoned at the side of the road maybe 4 miles down from my office, beside some woods (I work in a rural area). We jumped out and started frantically looking for her in the paddock, in the woods nearby, at the stream. I don't know how much time passed, it could have been 5 minutes or 30, but eventually I heard the worst thing I think I've ever heard: Steve screaming "call an ambulance!".

I ran to where I heard the voice, scared of what I was about to see. She was lying unconscious under a bush. She was breathing, but very pale, and convulsing. EMTs arrived, police arrived. We went to hospital. She'd taken a cocktail of painkillers and other opioids and beer. She came to in the ambulance and immediately started crying. I told everyone what was happening, and they all started to visit.

I know it's not my fault, logically. Everyone keeps telling me that. But I'll never get the image out of my head of that desperate pleading look in her eyes when she told me not to go and I just got out of the car, nor of the image of finding her body, or that horrible scream from Steve.

I don't really know where I'm going with this but I think I need to talk to someone professional because my mental health has taken the biggest hit of my life over this. I think the experience has given me a kind of PTSD because all I'm doing lately is breaking down several times a day.

And now the situation is even worse. She's in a psych ward, and I still have this thing hanging over my head that I said I wanted to break up and now it feels like I can't do that, because what if she dies?

So yeah, welcome to my blog.