TRIGGER WARNING: Mention of suicide
Day Six
I had enough, I couldn’t bear the pain
I thought I had it all, but I went insane
I saved my prescriptions, for months on end
Thinking it would bring relief, but instead, it just bend
I found myself a hotel, then back home
I took the pills and drank the alcohol, feeling so alone
I tried to drown myself in a bathtub, so high
But ended up throwing up, unable to die
I woke up in a hospital, the second one in sight
With no memory of what had happened, the darkness of the night
I had reached my breaking point, I wanted it all to end
But waking up in that hospital, I realized I still had a chance
I now know that I can’t let the pain take control
I won’t give up, I’ll fight and I’ll console
I’ll seek help and find a way to heal
I’ll hold on to hope and learn how to feel
If you or anyone you know is struggling with self-harm, please reach out to the crisis text line. You can text #988, or you can follow this link.
I was not paying the rent, but I told my ex-fiance I was. I thought I would've been out of that situation by the time he found out. (Domestic Violence) I had lost my job, due to my mental health and I lied about working. What I was doing every day, was trying to plan my escape; Calling the domestic violence shelter every day, researching how to safely get out and how to make it sustainable, where to go, how to live in my car, etc. I worked from home and had to adhere to HIPPA policies, so he never asked what I was doing on the computer. Toward the end there, my brain switched to finding WHATEVER I could to get out and to be safe. That's also, for another post.
Not working or bringing in an income meant I had to figure out how to not let him know. I got resigned up for food stamps, utilized all the food pantries, and churches for financial assistance, anything I could find, any lie I could muster up to keep myself safe. The fear of what could happen to me if he found out, led me to use, um, methods that were not okay to use. In my brain, I didn't understand that I was even doing anything wrong. I was simply trying to save myself after a year of begging for help from my trusted "loved" ones. Any who, I had also lied to him about having "cancer." This was that lovely learned behavior to allow someone to show me some sympathy. To ease up on me and maybe not call me degrading names for a day or beat me for a day or two. I'd just play the "cancer" card whenever he was starting to get angry. I actually learned a lot about cancer during this time...
I was on my way to the food pantry, but told him I was going for my "cancer treatment." He called and was irate. I guess the landlord had showed up at the door wondering where their rent was for the past two months. This is where things start to get a bit blurry. So, I'll do my best to recollect everything, as there's still so much time missing from my conscious mind during the last two years in this state. I remember panicking. Not because I got caught, but because I think he actually may kill me. I was remembering the griddle he split in half on his knee and said, "This could be you." Knowing I had no where to go but "home" with him, I was trying to speed to his work to "reason" with him.
There was a lot of texting back and forth, since he was at work. He would say things like, "Now's the time to do it. Just fucking kill yourself you retarded cunt bitch. You're worthless, and I hope you die. You better be dead when I get home," etc. I sent him one last text that said, "Okay. I'm going to do it. I'm going to kill myself." Then I turned off my phone and started the process.
I grabbed all the prescriptions I had been saving, any that were in the cupboard currently, and any OTC medication I could find. I said goodbye to the dog, (his dog, who I loved, and who protected me in all our fights. Then he would beat the crap out of the dog for protecting me instead of him) Got in my car, drove to a gas station and bought seven bottles of liquor. Then, I made my way to what I thought was going to be my final destination; the sleaziest hotel in my city.
I remember blocking my ex-fiancé's number but texting a friend of mine, playing some games and such. I had brought some razors with me, too. In hopes that I'd be doped up enough on all the medication and booze that it wouldn't hurt as much to slit my wrists. I remember the emotional pain. I started to cut my legs. Then I cut deeper and deeper. I don't know why I decided to go back "home," but I did. There, is where it all started.
I'm now sitting in my car outside my apartment. This is where I started taking the pills. I opened one of the liquor bottles and started downing the pills with the alcohol. At first, I started laughing. I was only a little drunk as the pills had not yet kicked in. I'm carrying my stuff and stumbling everywhere. After a while, I started to feel it was coming. That's when I really kicked up the pill intake. I think I made it through six of the liquor bottles before I got in the bathtub. I thought that I would be drunk enough to drown. You know, just in case the pills and liquor didn't work. That's the last thing I remember until I woke up in the second hospital.
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