Suicide, self harm, and donuts. I got your attention there, didn't I? So what do these three things have in common? Nothing. And sadly, this post has nothing to do with donuts. But everyone loves donuts, right? Now...I gotta be honest, because that is what my blog is about. No shame here and no guilt, if you don't want to read my story or if suicide triggers you, you should probably stop reading now.… Alright, here we go!
It was a sunny day, I think. Doesn’t really matter, but that’s how stories start, right? It was also the beginning of December. One of the "happiest" months of the year. I don't really remember much about that day. All I remember is how I felt. It felt like everything was crumbling down around me. I felt like everyone hated me, hell I hated me. The last thing I wanted to do was face another day in my life in this world. The tears wouldn't stop, they just would not. I remember falling to the floor and just sobbing, feeling so helpless. My heart was so broken it physically hurt inside my chest. "This is it" I thought, "today is going to be my last day feeling like this." I had been to the dentist for my wisdom teeth a few years back and had a bottle of Tylenol 3s left. I had kept them around for migraines but never really used them. I hadn't really thought about them either much before this day. I was racking my brain trying to think of the easiest, most painless way to do this. To end my life. I picked myself up off the floor, ran to the medicine cabinet and dumped them all out on the counter. 30. That's how many there were. One by one, without stopping, I swallowed those pills. It probably took a few minutes but to me it only felt like seconds. Once I had taken them all, I laid on the floor and waited to die. But it took too long, and that's when panic and regret struck hard. I did not want to die. In a fright, I searched for my phone, forgetting I had left it at work. (I had been sent home that day for an unprofessional argument I had with a co-worker. I'm not proud of that moment, but I was so riddled with bottled up depression and anxiety that I just blew up. I didn't know how to handle it back then.) I began to meltdown even more. All I wanted was help, and I didn't know what to do. Then I remembered I had my iPad, and I could text someone with an iPhone. "Call the ambulance". That's the text I sent to my roommate. She knew our address (obviously) and I wouldn't have to explain much. I think I told her I took a bunch of pills and that I was scared. It's all a bit of a blur after that. I remember starting to feel weak.
The paramedics took what felt like forever to get to me. They knocked on the door, and they knocked again, and again. I kept saying "come in" but they couldn't hear me. I don't even know if I said it out loud. I dragged myself to the door before collapsing into someone's arms. Next thing I remember was being strapped into a gurney and being put in the ambulance. Man those things are crowded! And noisy...and scary. There are no windows to see out of, but you know you're moving. But it doesn't feel like it. The hospital isn't far from my house, maybe about 8 minutes, which felt like hours. I don't remember much after I got to the hospital. The pills were really starting to affect me and I was high as a kite. I remember being itchy EVERYWHERE. Turns out I was having some sort of reaction to the codeine. The poor nurses kept trying to calm me and soothe my skin with cold wet cloths, and all I could focus on was getting out of my own skin.
The next thing I remember was waking up in a bed in a room with my mom beside me. I had been asleep for a few hours and was now hooked up to IV's and several other wires. The doctors were able to help my body flush out most of the Tylenol, but I wasn't out of the clear yet. The ONLY thing that kept me alive that day was the fact that the Tylenol had been expired and lost some of their effectiveness. And a bit of luck I guess. I was told by the doctor on my case that due to the amount of codeine I had taken, my kidneys could suffer severe damage down the line. (Thankfully that never happened, I got pretty damn lucky). After being in a room by myself for a few days, I was moved back into the "normal" part of the emergency room. I was feeling much better (and STARVING at this point from lack of actual food lol) and was ready to go home... but what I didn't know, is that I wasn't going home.
At this point I had none of my own clothes. The clothes I had gone in with were in bags, and I was head to toe in hospital attire. Slippers, pj pants, and a night gown that tied up at the back. Stylish ;) It was the dead of winter, and I was told to pack up my stuff (my mom had gotten me a few things from home) and meet a taxi out front that was going to be bringing me to Kirkwood, Sudbury's mental hospital. Now, everyone is fully entitled to their own opinion, and this is just mine. I'm sure mental hospitals (even this one) have helped people in the past and still do, but to me, it felt like prison. I was placed in a small room right beside the nurses office. I wasn't allowed to have ANY of my own possessions, except for a book, my journal (if I promised not to hurt myself with the pen) and a chocolate calendar my mom bought me. I love those things. Phones were not allowed, but me being the millennial that I am, I snuck it in in my bra, and slept with it in my pillow case every night. Full knowing I'd get in trouble if I got caught! I was isolated, terrified, and alone. I bawled my eyes out the first night. "I don't belong here" I said, "this place is for crazy people!" I felt like I was being punished, not being helped. Although I did get sleeping pills as a part of my nightly cocktail of meds. I was so sleep deprived by this point it wasn't even funny. Now before this experience of mine, I had never been to a doctor or received any medication for this. This was my first time being told "you have depression and anxiety". This was my first time hearing of Cypralex (my current medication). Now, I always knew there was something wrong with me, but now I knew I had an actual illness. Which makes sense, I was abused physically and verbally by my father my entire childhood. I was bullied by kids in school and I didn't feel like I belonged in this world. But know I wasn't just a crazy person thinking and feeling like a lost broken soul in the world, but chemicals in my brain were/are imbalanced. Did that ever put things in perspective for me! Knowing, I could tell people "I'm sick, I have depression and anxiety" instead of "I'm sad and full of hate for reasons I can't explain or understand!" Wow. And now, I can find cures for this! I can get better. After they let me out that is... I don't really want to go into my week long stay at the mental hospital. It's a long and boring story to be honest. I had a lot of time to think, and read, and realize that is not a place I EVER want to go back to. My plan is to continue this story in another post, about how my life has changed since my attempted suicide, and how my outlook on life is so different now. This story is actually how I came with the name for this new journey of mine. "Choose Life". The day I chose to take my life was also the day I chose to NEVER do it again. I definitely still continued to have suicidal thoughts and struggled with self harm, but that's OKAY! I'm not healed yet, but I'm not where I was! I have to go through the motions and sometimes, it has to get worse before it can get better. I am coming out from underneath a HUGE dark cloud where I spent years being held hostage. I still take my medication, I am in therapy, and I understand how talking about these things rather than hiding them and being ashamed is so good for my healing.
I would like to finish by saying that suicide is NOT THE ANSWER, nor is it the way out. And trust me, if you are suffering, I KNOW how you feel in those moments, I really do. Only people who have felt those feelings and have been to a real hard rock bottom will understand. But what I also know, is that the feeling doesn't last forever! Even when you feel unloved and completely alone and worthless in this world, you're not. Reach out for help. Call a friend or a loved on. Call a helpline or reach out to a professional. It's SO hard sometimes to admit that you need help, but these people are here to help you, and they are so good at their jobs. Saints. Just do something. We are all worth it and we can beat this together. No one deserves to suffer alone. And it can't be done alone! You are loved, more than you know. Until next time,
Choose Life.
Lana ❤
Sudbury 24/7 crisis line 705-675-4760
Kids help phone 1-800-668-6868
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