Took 16g of ******** and survived

I was found 15 minutes later.

The whole story I want to tell you:

Two weeks ago I flew to Prague to meet a girl I had found on here to commit suicide together. I had 26g of ******** powder (Pentobarbital sodium) with me and a bottle of Metoclopramide. This was definitiely to be my last days, so I booked one of the best hotels in town for two nights.

The first night we got totally drunk, I took some MDMA crystals. The second night she was still hesitant and I decided to take the ******** on my own. I remember sitting in the room and crying, I didn’t want to die but there was no chance: Psychotherapy I had tried, meditation I had tried, Psychiatry I had tried, Studying, Singing, Wandering, living on my own – lots of things I had tried but there was nothing that worked me back to my real self so the rational conclusion was to commit suicide. So with a dirty smile I gave 16g of Pentobarbital into my camping cup and drank it with eyes closed in a one big hit. It was delicious. It was pervert. It killed my sensation. Then I wrote the fatal SMS of goodbye which saved me.

They pumped my stomach, charcoaled it, put diverse infusions and catheters into my body and I lay for 48 hours in comatose hallucinations on Czech intensive station. In a room with no natural air or light, with people running in and out, in total observation, in noisy whispering of surround instruments I drove into a exhaustion psychosis and pulled the catheters out, including the one in my penis but it was blocked and caused a pain I had never suffered before. I forgot how to speak German, my mother tongue, I only phantasized in English, I lay in a bed permanently pumping up and down and had 7 nights without a second of sleep at the bottom of my suicidal despair.

Then my parents appeared. Once it was the greatest reliese to see a known face in this labyrinth of madness but then their presence tortured me, pityful care. I ate nothing for 8 days, drank nothing for two, and was fixated to bed for nearly a week. Then I was sent within an ambulance to a German psychiatry, during the entrance dialogue I could barely say anything, I was so totally afraid and lost in exhaustion!

Now I’ve been staying there for one week and at least my body has recovered to a stable level and it’s my first night temporarily out I’m writing this to warn you about whatever.

In regard to my feeling I won’t commit suicide again. But I’m not thankful, or released, or happy I’m just emptied by the medicaments in hospital. The whole despair is surpressed but at the moment this is the only way for me to survive without going mad. And indeed I have to stand through this situation however it will come. There are ways I’ve never gone before in my ways and these will be the first I will go in this life. Then, in one year or so, there will be a rational decision on if and how to go on. But in this moment, I can only vegetate into the days physically.

Suicide now considered was not just the act of swallowing the poison but much more the weeks and months before reading this and other sites and thinking about the order of ******** all day. If you avoid death in your mind, there might be a good chance for life in reality.