I plunged 40 metres and survived
Leaning back in my desk chair, I couldn’t concentrate. As my colleagues worked around me, their voices started to mesh into white noise.
I’d returned to my career in human resources parttime after having my son, Matthew, then two.
Before I’d gone on maternity leave, I’d worked in HR for 12 years.
But now, everything seemed wrong.
I felt like an imposter in my own life and I was sure everyone around me thought I wasn’t good enough.
When she couldn’t see any other way out, Donna made a drastic decision
50, Donna Thistlethwaite, Brisbane, Qld
Each day I was in the office, it got worse.
As my colleague explained a new IT system, I imagined I could read her thoughts.
She has no idea. She should be fired, I envisioned her saying.
Plagued with self-doubt, the paranoia was slowly killing my confidence.
After 10 days, I decided to speak to my boss.
‘I can’t do this anymore,’ I said. ‘I want to leave.’
He was really supportive and encouraged me to think about it.
That Friday, in August 2012, I visited my GP too. I told her I wasn’t sleeping and was stressing about work.
She recommended sleeping pills, but I didn’t want to take them.
And that weekend, I seemed to unravel further.
I began to plan something sinister. In my head, it all made perfect sense.
If I were to die, my partner Greg and Matthew would be better off without me.
When Greg, 45, got home, he knew something was wrong and I tried to explain my fears.
‘You’ve had this career for such a long time, you’ll be fine,’ he soothed.
But on the Sunday, I woke with a clear intention.
Today is the day. The morning started normally.
I fed and dressed Matthew, then a friend came over and we played with a ball in the backyard, before I retreated inside.
‘I’m going to get some groceries,’ I told Greg.
We said goodbye with a kiss and, as I drove away, I tried to fool my brain into believing I really was off to the shops.
But I headed to Brisbane’s Story Bridge and got out of the car.
The winter wind whipped at my hair as I stared into the murky depths of the water below.
Pacing up and down, tears burned in my eyes.
Do it now, a voice in my head said.
So I took off my shoes. Suddenly, I knew I needed to call Greg.
When I got his voicemail, I left a message.
‘Greg, I wanted you to know I’ve left you a note
Self-doubt and paranoia was killing my confidence
on my computer,’ I said. ‘I love you. I’m sorry.’
Then I climbed over the fence and let myself fall.
As I plunged 40 metres,
I let out a sharp gasp.
Hitting the icy water, a stinging sensation flooded my whole body.
Ouch, it hurts! I thought, as I floated to the surface.
Emerging from the water, I saw a crowd had gathered on the bridge.
Before I could find my breath again, I fell unconscious.
The next thing I knew, I could hear machines beeping and murmured voices. My eyes snapped open. I was in hospital. Greg, his mum and a doctor were in the room.
What’s going on? I thought, not remembering what happened at first.
I tried to take it in as the doctor read from my chart.
‘Five fractured vertebrae. One fractured rib. A lacerated liver…’
Glancing down at my battered body, the memories came flooding back.
Wow. I’m alive. I didn’t expect that, I thought, surprised.
I learnt that a ferry full of people had seen me in the river and the crew pulled me to safety.
Six days later, I was allowed home.
Feeling lost, I started seeing a psychiatrist.
But apart from her and a few close friends and family, I didn’t tell anyone else about my attempt to take my own life.
It was just too difficult to talk about. It was my dark secret.
Two years passed, and I realised I still hadn’t dealt with why it happened.
But with meditation and exercise, I slowly started to flourish.
Then I began to speak about it.
Mental illness isn’t something to be ashamed of, I realised.
I want people to know there is a way to work it out and death is never the answer.
Have hope, and please know that things will get better and you won’t always feel like this.
Every day I’m so grateful to be alive.
Last year, I met John and Stuss, the two brave men who pulled me from the water that day. I owed them my life.
‘Thank you,’ I said, hugging them both.
I wish I’d never hurt
Greg and Matthew, now eight, the way I did.
But today I’m the person I am because of that experience.
I’m an inspirational speaker and career coach. I also run a workshop helping mums return to work.
I had a second chance at life, so I can help others see the value in theirs.
As told to April Glover
If you’re struggling and need help, call Lifeline on 13 11 14 (Aus) or 0800 543 354 (NZ).
Please know that things will get better