I wanted out

The day I attempted, I knew exactly what I wanted. I didn’t care who was hurt and who would be a complete mess if I actually did die. I wanted out. For weeks before I was under so much stress from my mother. Everything was always my fault. Everything. The night before I attempted, I stayed out til 4 am with my boyfriend having one of the best nights in my life. When I finally came home, with 1% on my phone battery, I was locked out. She locked me outside in the downpour thunderstorm, frozen cold.

I managed to get my phone one long enough to call my house and beg to be let in when it died. My mother finally opened the door, screaming at me at 6 am in the morning. She let me in and did nothing but scream at me for 3 hours til she had to leave for work. When she finally left her parting words were, “You better be gone by the time I’m home.” so I tried. I tried to be gone permanently. I OD’d and took a nap. After a 6 hour nap, I woke up vomiting everywhere. I couldn’t hold it down. From 2pm to 6pm I did nothing but vomit everything I drank and ate. I silently begged for it to be over.

By the time my mother came home and opened the front door, noticing I was still home and she screamed “Get the fuck out of my house”. She stormed through the house and found me feeling like death on my bed. I told her I simply wasn’t well, and she asked If I took something. I admitted that I did. She asked how many pills I took, I told her. Her response?

“That’s not enough, take more right now. Finish what you started.” and she threw me the bottle.

I was so angry. She went to take my phone from me and she put me in a headlock when I protested. I freaked out and ran out of the house grabbing my shoes but she grabbed my arm first. Once I was outside I threw my shoes at her face. She called 911 and had me handcuffed into an ambulance for “violence”. But when they asked me why I did it, my answer is always the same.

I wanted out.