On Tuesday night, October 22, 2019, I attempted suicide. I spent 1 full week in the hospital. Mental illness and suicide runs in my family so I’ve known since I was a small child that I was never meant to stay here. I’ve had a couple of brief isolated happy times in my 39 years of life, but honestly, the majority has been pretty miserable.
My dad is dying with stage 4 lung cancer and we have to take him to the restroom and care for him 100% My mom gets frustrated with being a caregiver to us both. After she stormed to her bedroom for the evening on Tuesday night, I decided I no longer wanted to be one more person she’d have to help.
I went into my room, poured a handful of pills into my hand, swallowed them all easily with some bottled water and regretted it a tiny bit, but didn’t do anything else. I put on some pants and a flannel shirt and was going to go downstairs and sit in my car and wait. Evidently within 7-10 minutes I fell down in my bedroom floor. I don’t remember anything.
I woke up out of it Wednesday, while being rolled to a bigger hospital room. I was under constant physical surveillance. In other words someone stayed in my room 24/7 and even had to watch me.go to the bathroom.
Then I was transferred by police, in handcuffs, to the mental hospital.
It was hell on earth. Except the food was really good and they fed us constantly!!!! They take all your possessions away when you arrive. No cellphone, no dental floss, art supplies, clothes with strings, everything. Any clothes a family member brings is thoroughly searched before you can get them. Nothing to do all day long but color pictures, play card games, or board games.
Every hour felt like 3. I couldn’t believe I was stuck there for the next 5 days. They check your room every 15 minutes at night and wake you up at 5 am for vitals check. Then they come back at 7am for early meds, and at 7:45 am they wake you up for breakfast. It’s not like the movies where they keep every one drugged.
I got my regular meds. Nothing more, nothing less. Words cannot express how much I wanted to come home. It felt like torture. I learned a lot though. I learned that every one there has it 10 times worse than me. Many of them were addicts, alcoholics, going to be homeless when they were released, had been sexually abused, and had nothing.
It made me realize that I have it so good, and I need to start living my life again. I know I won’t live forever, but the book that is my life, has a few more chapters to go.