Thursday, September 13, 2012

Memoir.... is an exerpt from my "memoir".  It's a little sad, but I'll post a happy exerpt later.  Balance......

August 20, 2008 is a day that I will never forget. It was on this day that I almost succeeded in taking my own life.

The summer of 2008 had not been kind to me at all. First there was Terrance cancelling our wedding and breaking up with me, following that I had an abortion (worst experience of my life), and my “relationship” with the man who is now my ex-husband was unraveling. I arrived home from work and there was a note on my door from the rental office threatening to evict me. I looked at my phone, it was the credit union calling to find out when I would catch up my car loan. The world was caving in on me, everything felt like darkness. I put my daughter in her room and I sat on my living room couch and began to cry. Usually crying is very cleansing for me, but this time it wasn’t. Something inside me said, “See how invaluable you are? No one cares for you. You could not possibly be a good person because no one wants you.” Blindly, I stumbled to my kitchen drawer where I kept a stash of Tylenol PM. It was a new box, so systematically I opened each little packet and swallowed each pill. I felt a strange wave of calm come over me, the suffering was going to come to an end. In the back of my head, I knew the Tylenol PM was not going to be enough. I found my xanax and swallowed down the remaining 27 day supply. Ten minutes later I began to feel sleepy. During this time, I decided to call my mother and my best friend and tell them good-bye. My mother hung up on me in a rush to get to my apartment, and my best friend called the police. The next thing I know, Chesapeake Police, Fire and Rescue were at my house and I was being loaded onto a stretcher, while I feebly waved good bye to my daughter.

In the ambulance I screamed to anyone listening that I did not want to be saved. My calls went unanswered as the techs went about the business of asking me the standard questions.

“M’am did you mean to harm yourself?”

“How long have you felt this way?”

“Have you ever had thoughts of suicide before?”

When we arrived at the hospital, I was put in an observation room and a psych doctor came to evaluate me. She called out to one of the nurses to get the activated charcoal, and I groggily wondered what that was for. I would soon find out. The nurse handed me a Styrofoam cup with a black liquid that looked like tar. “Drink.”, she ordered. I did as I was told and it was disgusting. “You have to finish the whole cup, if not we will have to pump your stomach.” I drank and cried. I looked at my mother sitting in the chair next to my bed. She looked so worried, tired. I put that worry there. I went back to feeling like shit. After drinking the charcoal, I was ready to go home. I wasn’t dead, mission was not accomplished, I wanted to go home. I asked a nurse who was passing by when I was going home, and he said, “We’ll see…’s up to the doctor if she thinks you are stable enough to go home.” When the pysch doctor returned, I asked if I could leave and she said, “ I really don’t think it is a good idea, perhaps we can admit you to psych for evaluation.” A lump formed in my throat, the thought of not going home made me mad, but I kept my composure. “You have to let me go home. I have my little girl, and work. I have to go home.” At that moment, I realized that I had a purpose. It may not have been what I thought it was going to be, but I still had time.......

Till Next Time.....

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