The First Time I Almost Killed Myself Was Over 20 Dollars

Been thinking about a lot of stuff lately now that I’m not going to try and die now. Going through old posts a lot because I’m always curious about stuff. I say my post about my first half baked “attempt”. Then I remembered it was over 20 dollars. So I don’t talk about them a lot anymore since I’m a grown man and my problems are currently where I live and not across the country. I actually don’t talk to my family all that much. Can go a couple weeks without calling them. But when I first joined when I was a junior in high-school most of my posts were about them if not about school. My parents are the pull yourself up by your bootstraps, no free handouts, you earn everything you have type of conservative. Especially my mom. Money was a big thing. Money is still a big thing. Which is understandable given how she grew up. So she’s an accountant professor and she is very aware of what goes in and out. She knows very well how much things cost and, in my case, how much people cost. She will often remind you during any arguments you may have with her. Back in high school I often thought of myself as a walking talking receipt that keeps getting longer. I get it. Money is important, as much as I hate it. I just wish she didn’t throw it in my face every chance she got. The terms ungrateful, selfish, lazy, don’t know the value of a dollar, terrible etc where tossed around a lot. Especially the first three. And they wonder why I have so many complexes. It was also very paradoxical because she would spoil us too. We went to disney world. I had maybe a half dozen game boys because I kept losing them and other expensive consoles. Christmas was never bad. But over time I kinda figured out that those would be used as ammo for her down the line. I am now very hesitant to take money from her in any capacity.

So getting to the title. It was my freshman year and I wanted to join the robotics club at school. I liked robots since I was little. There was a sign up fee of 20 dollars. The thing is I didn’t really go to club meetings. A lot of kids who signed up didn’t really go now that I think about it. I still had a hard time talking to other kids and maybe the project seemed very scary. Or maybe I was just lazy and forgot. Can’t really remember. When she found out she was furious. Same spiel. Same result. Crying and feeling ashamed and unable to look at my parents. Eventually she stopped and they went to go do some errand or something. It was close to evening I think. I go to the medicine drawer and find a pill bottle of bayer. I think it was actually baby asprin. I remember thinking “Will this even kill me?” I flipped over the bottle and read that it may cause kidney failure if I took too much. Good enough. I get a big glass of water (which probably would have made it less effective) and grab a fistful. I’m crying with snot running out of my nose trying to bring my hand to my mouth. Pacing around the room. Eventually I ***** out and put everything back. I just cry myself to sleep. Looking back on it, that’s pretty damn funny.

Scared as hell with my meeting tomorrow with my advisor. Trying to figure out what to say and how I can leverage some things. My dad is under the impression that I have enough to graduate because “it’s good enough”. Even after explaining to him several times that it is not. He asked that if they offered to let me graduate with what I had, I would take it right? I kept telling him they wouldn’t, but he kept asking. They are never going to understand why I do these things. That’s ok. Now that I’m going to live, I’m going to do what I want.