It’s laying late in bed. There’s a thousand & one reasons to hate yourself. I’ve given up on myself 6 times. The most severe time that I do remember was on February 2, 2012.
I stayed home from school (my senior year). I don’t like going to school when I feel really depressed. I usually just told my mom that I was sick. MY mind played tricks on me & my nerves made me sick. There was a full bottle of NyQuil & full bottle of Extra Strength Tylenol. I took both. I chugged & swallowed. Things shouldn’t have gotten this bad. I called my friend when I started to become extremely dizzy. At that moment, I experienced not only torturing emotional pain, but also torturing physical pain. He got in contact with my dad & my dad rushed home from work.
I got to the ER. They had to pump my stomach. I had to get a blood test every 30 minutes. I had to get medicine in my IV every hour. I had to drink liquid charcoal to absorb all of the medicine. It was a terrible experience. The next day I spent the day with my mom & dad. We went to talk to a psychologist. I don’t think my parents quite understand that I hate talking to a complete stranger who happened to be an old man.
I was judged by my peers. I was judged by my school. I was judged by my teachers. I lost a lot of friends after that day. Who wants to be friends with the depressed girl? Finding support is so hard. After February 2, I still had suicidal thoughts. I cut my wrists. I cut my thighs. I cut the back of my neck.
For some reason, I won’t wake up from this nightmare. Some people just don’t understand. But I’m trying to be strong. I know my life has some sort of purpose… I’ll find it… One day.