Most of you will know that I was accused of something. I got arrested, held in custody and the torment begun. Before I continue, I want to say that the person who made the allegation is forgiven and is not an attack on them. It is my way of feeling safe to air out some issues.
I had heard stories before about those who are falsely accused getting sent to prison so only a little comfort came when you are told that nothing will happen if you are innocent. I was anxious and I told my closest friends about it.
The anxiety about whether they will believe you or the accuser is unreal. I think my friends did genuinely know the truth but your head goes crazy with thoughts of “are they just saying this to me” ect. The hurt you go through emotionally is real.
For me, comfort came in pretending that I just didn't care about the investigation. I did. It played on my mind everyday. Even now, the emotions are still there. In my head, the anxiousness to be around people just in case I get falsely accused of anything again.
One person who I fell out with during the investigation (and am friends with again, nothing to do with the investigation though) told I was “being a cunt” (sorry about the language). The thing that upsets me is I didn't feel comfortable airing how I was feeling, so I did probably start acting like a “cunt” - I become close to so many but during this, I didn't want to be close to anyone.
As the investigation continued, I guess I got worse. I started not airing most issues to anyone and thus, most are still trapped in my head.
Everyday, I'd consider taking my life. I came so close again once but told a church brother. The thoughts of self harming again become constant. Dying felt like an escape.
I’d chirp on, pretending to be happy. Pretending I wasn't letting this get to me. Hiding behind the facade I created of hyperactive, happy Ben. I guess that helped me escape what was going on - just for a while, until I was alone.
I started praying again. In tears to God most nights. I found solace, peace, love. A hole was filled again but I was still fueled with upset, doubt and worry.
Something was holding me back. I didn't feel guilty as I had done nothing wrong but I felt pain, hurt and there was a lot of unforgiveness in my heart. I had even tried writing a song about it and that didn't work. I needed to do something, I needed Jesus. Pastor Mark Stevens prayed for me, the accusation, and to forgive.
That moment on, I didn't look back. It was all about moving forward. Then, in general conversation it gets bought up. All those feelings are back apart from the unforgiveness.
It hurt. The fact that I had always tried best to help people. Support. Love. Give hope. Campaign. These were all things I know I did but I stopped believing I did these. I just felt like right now I was hurting people. I wanted this whole thing to end. I'm all honesty, I wanted to die. In my head I was starting to arrange it. This was going to be my final suicide attempt. The one that finally worked. The 6th October 2017 was going to be my last day on earth. I was going to leave at 3am as no one would walk past the river at that time.
I planned this weeks ago. My attempts before were not this well thought out. This one would work. I was determined.
Sunday just gone the 1st October 2017. I had a call from the police saying I had ‘no case to answer’ - I realised then that my God is real. He has a plan for me. He knows me better than me. I was overjoyed. Finally, a sense of justice.
I wanted to write this to show everyone that things are not as they seem and we can't take sides unless we have heard the full stories. We can't judge someone by how they act, because the don't know what's going through their head and we can't and must not fear the unknown.
For me, I've moved on. I write this to you on the 6th October 2017 about to go to sleep in bed. I start counseling tomorrow and I have a purpose.
Stop treating the accused as if they're convicted.