Went into suicide mode

A lot has happened since I last posted. I never made it to PHP day 4. The whole "I just want everything to disappear, especially me" from my last post suddenly became my reality. Later that night I decided I couldn't take life any longer and went into suicide mode. I had already drunk a bottle of wine and since the second bottle I had purchased wasn't chilled yet, I grabbed the bottle of vodka from the freezer.

As I drank, I began writing out a will, telling everyone what should happen to my body after I was gone, where to find my handwritten journals and blog, what to do with all my belongings, etc. I then went on to write my daughter a very poignant good-bye letter. I saved both files to my desktop. I figured someone would log on to my computer after I disappeared and see them there since the only thing I ever keep on my desk top is the recycle bin.

Not wanting to trouble anyone else with it, I noticed I had bills that were due soon, so I wrote out checks for all the bills and left the one my daughter needed for school on my desk. By the time I was done with the will, the letter to my daughter and had the bills all ready to be mailed, I had finished off the bottle of vodka, which was three quarters full when I started. As I drank the last glass, I downed about 40 Valium.

I decided it'd be better to leave the house and die somewhere on the street, so I grabbed the bills and decided I'd walk to the post office to mail them. I also grabbed my cellphone and iPod, and quietly snuck out the front door so I wouldn't wake anyone. At this point it was about 2:00 am.

I stumbled to the corner and turned to head in the direction of the post office. Somehow I managed to make it the seven blocks to the next street I had to get to without falling down. I had my iPod cranked and I remember singing really loud cuz I could hear my voice over the music. After turning the corner I started heading towards the post office which was about 10 blocks away. As I was walking along that street I came upon a mailbox and shouted with glee "yay! I don't have to make it all the way to the post office". Yet I still continued in that direction after I put the bills in the box.

The mailbox happens to be at the corner our library is on, a library that is currently under construction. Being as far gone as I already was, I'd forgotten that there was no sidewalk there anymore, it had been torn up for the construction, but I still tried to walk on it. My sandals ended up getting stuck in the mud and I fell over, hitting my right arm and hip pretty hard. The last thing I remember doing was searching through the mud to find my shoes, grabbing them and continuing to walk barefoot on something that felt like gravel.

Since I blacked out at that point, this next part is pieced together from information I was given by various people....

Somehow I ended up at the door to the firehouse which is about 3 blocks down from the library. I don't know if someone stopped and helped me over there or if I walked there myself. I was told that I was leaning on the door as I rang the bell, trying to get someone to answer. When the firemen came to the door and opened it, I fell on my left side like a brick. They immediately rushed me to the ER. Apparently someone recognized me from the previous week, because despite having no ID on me, they sent the police to my house to notify my parents I was being taken to the hospital.

In the ER, I have little knowledge of what they did except cut off my clothes and insert a catheter to drain my bladder. Since I was pretty close to being comatose and they had no clue what I had taken, I'm not sure what the protocol is in that type of situation. I don't know if I was intubated at all or had my stomach pumped. I know they took a dozen or so x-rays and CT scans to check for broken bones or head trauma from the falls because they told me that in the psychiatric hospital.

I remember waking up at some point in the ER and telling them I needed to go to the bathroom. They kept insisting that was all taken care of, but I kept insisting I needed to go. I ripped out the IV and the catheter, at which point there were suddenly 6 or 7 guys grabbing my limbs and putting me into restraints. I remember screaming out profanities for awhile and then I blacked out again.

Next thing I remember is waking in the ICU. I immediately insisted that I be transferred to the psych hospital and the nurse kept telling me that if I wanted to be in the psych hospital so bad, why didn't I just go there in the first place. Duh bitch, I wasn't expecting to live, but since I did, I knew what my fate would be and so I just wanted to get the fuck over there.

To say my pdoc was disappointed when he found out what happened is an understatement. I thought for sure he was going to drop me as a patient. He insisted that I attend some of the chemical dependency groups they hold in the detox unit. I didn't go to as many as I was expected to. I slept through a couple and had visiting with my daughter during another.

I had a family session Friday with my parents and I was ill-prepared for some of the questions my case worker asked me, like would I reach out to them if I needed help in the future. I said no because I already feel like a burden to them. That I always feel guilty that I'm not sane enough to live on my own with my daughter because they're retired and should be enjoying their time. They should be moving to some place warmer or out traveling.

After the family session, I was pulled out of the room by the pdoc that had seen me in the PHP on April 1st. She basically chastised me for being a burden to my parents. She said that I'm an adult and needed to step up and take responsibility for myself. She said I should be taking care of my parents, not the other way around. I said thanks for making me feel even more guilty about my living situation than I already was. I wanted to walk out on her, but I figured if I did that then maybe my pdoc wouldn't let me go today like he said I could.

In order to be released, I agreed to take Antabuse to help prevent me from drinking. I also agreed to go back and try the PHP again, which I'll start on Monday. I also had to agree to go to an AA group for atheists and agnostics that the staff found for me. I'll go to at least one meeting, I might learn something, but I know it's not something I need. I'm not an alcoholic. Yes, I was abusing alcohol for the last two months, but not before that.

I do know that I need to avoid drinking, which is why I agreed to the Antabuse. I've even hung up the side effects that will occur if I try to drink next to my computer and on the refrigerator to remind myself that drinking isn't an option. I know that I can always just stop taking the med if I feel I want to drink, but I really want to abstain, so I'm going to try to take it faithfully everyday.

My body is still bruised and painful all over from the falls I took. I'm also extremely exhausted...mentally, emotionally and physically. I'm so looking forward to sleeping in my own bed tonight, because I didn't sleep well in the hospital at all. I got maybe 4 hours of sleep a night.

Before I left the hospital, I wrote a letter to my roommate. She was a young girl, about 15 years old, that just came to our unit to sleep at night because there were no beds open on the unit she was on, the self injury/eating disorder unit. A couple of nights ago she found something to use to self injure and so they pulled her out of the room in the middle of the night.

I told her that while I didn't know the specifics of her situation, I did know what she's going through emotionally. That I understood why she self injures, but that she should embrace the help that's being offered to her now so she doesn't end up trying to recover from decades of self abuse like I am. I wasn't sure if that was an appropriate thing to do, but I wanted her to know she's not alone and to give her some encouragement. I told her she'd be in my thoughts, and she is. I so hope she doesn't suffer as long as I have.