Just a story…

I know the pain of wanting to die. I felt it for several months all alone before anyone found out what I’d been doing to myself in order to cope. I had a good few goes at it-mostly overdosing on pills, useless, disgusting, nauseating pills. I began to realise I wasn’t going to die after my third attempt. I downed 190 over the counter painkillers and all that happened was a blissful uninterrupted sleep till the early hours of the morning when I woke up and spewed the lot up. Of course I felt a bit dizzy and weak for the rest of the day but I was totally fine after a good rest. I went on attempting until I finally thought I’d cracked it with paracetamol. To date I’m still pretty certain that was my nearest to successful attempt–

I read on the Internet that paracetamol was fairly reliable and when I read the effects or was supposed to have I decided it was worth a try. I downed just over double the amount that’s supposedly enough to kill a person one night.  I woke up feeling surprise surprise, extremely nauseous. I managed to get myself ready for college and halfway to the bus stop before my stomach finally turned and I threw up in the street. I faced the difficult decision then of whether I wanted to continue to college or just go home and haves day off sick. Being the nut-case I am I decided to go to college. I just managed the first bus journey without throwing up but by the time I reached the city centre my stomach was doing somersaults so I thought sitting in the nearest public toilet until I inevitably vomited was the best option. I remember sitting there for ages wishing to just throw up already. I almost caved and confessed everything to my dad by phone but I was certain I wanted to die so asking for help wasn’t an option. I finally managed to get everything out of my system and get to college (only half an hour late). I told everyone I was I’ll and just sat there half passed out for most of the day. By the time I got home I felt well enough to play the healthy happy daughter until I finally got to go to bed.  The next few days were horrible. I felt horribly ill- my stomach cramped, I felt nauseous most of the time, I could barely eat or drink, my energy levels were so low doing anything was a task but of course I had to pretend I was totally fine so no o me would clock me. I checked symptoms n the Internet and I was surprised to see that most of my symptoms matched exactly liver failure which at that stage I was convinced would kill me. I was slightly relieved but kind of devestated a week later when I started to feel better. It really was just another failed attempt.

A few months past and then summer came. I tried to kill myself again with fewer but much stronger painkillers and an injection which was supposed to be lethal but turned out just to cause my arm to burn like Hell for about half an hour. When I woke up the next morning barely able to move I decided enough was enough and phoned for help. When I look back now I feel that is the worst decision I made- if that ambulance hasn’t come I’d probably be blissfully dead by now.Being in hospital was a total waste anyway- they kept me in for the day to make sure my blood pressure returned to normal and my blood sugar levels but they didn’t do much else. Of course I had a psych assessment but they didn’t see for to admit me which I found quite shocking at the time considering how badly I was self harming as well as how badly I wanted to die. Instead they phoned my dad who rushed to pick me up up and then proceed to tell everyone who cared about me. I basically awarded myself with the worst summer ever. I started seeing a psychologist who did seen to slowly help me feel a lot better. I’ve had a Hell of a battle  with self harm and I still haven’t fully managed to kick the habit but its much less of an occurrence now. Id be lying if I said I didn’t want to die anymore because I do but unless I’m having a bad day (which just happens now and then) there’s no urgency to it anymore- if I have to live for today and maybe even tomorrow that’s fine but if someone put a gun to my head I certainly wouldn’t beg for my life. You know what? I still even intend to kill myself but I haven’t attempted anything for months, I’m happier to wait for the opportunity to arise now than to create it for myself like I had to do before.

Thats the end of my story so far…