I've taken another overdose. Well, on Tuesday night/Weds morning. I took 18 paracetemol tablets and washed it down with alcohol along with other medicines.
I...I have been in hospital since then, on a drip, lying to my family more than ever, but being more open than before if you get my meaning. Now that I'm home, I think I'm on suicide watch on the moment, considering that the amount I took was said to be a fatal amount and I have done damage to my liver, but it's recuperating. And I'm resting trying to not to work too hard and I'm trying so hard to see what has changed in my life. I know that for one thing I'm not so afraid of death anymore. And I know that I'm going to die soon, much sooner than I thought if I carry on this way. I don't think my feelings have caught up with me yet, I'm so tired and weak and everything is so surreal. My brother actually hugged me, for one thing. And me and Mum bonded. Ay, I have so much to tell you, I'll have to break it up into three parts, give me something to look forward to until Dad comes home and I return to college to the wrath from my teachers.
And god, despite everything that's been happening I'm still worrying about my two essays. God, has anything changed at all? Am I going to make it to university? I don't know, I don't know. I should have talked to someone to talk me out of the ... attempt? Who knows, I'm going to rest some more. I broke a promise and I'm sorry.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
4 comments:
OH, I've forgotten what is was like to be 17. Sorry I can't do something for you from here.
ARGH! Why? Why would you do this to yourself?
Hmm, wait, should I really be talking since this is exactly what I was doing at 17? Probably not.
Okay. I am going to tell you what I should have told myself at 17. Because if I had, my life would have been a hell of a lot easier.
Stop lying. Stop telling everyone you are okay. Because you're not. Obviously. If you're taking overdoses and cutting, there's obviously a problem. You fluctuate between happy and miserable on a extremely rapid basis and that's obviously a problem.
Please forgive the massive use of the word obvious.
Okay, back to semi-lecture. The biggest mistake I ever made was to let me convince myself that meds were a sign of weakness. I know you've said you really don't understand why you feel the way that you do. Did it ever occur to you that it might just be a chemical imbalance? Would it really hurt anything to try taking an anti-depressant? Because, after all, you have no problem with drinking when you're depressed, which is quite the mistake since it's a depressant!
Okay. I am calming down and climbing off of the soap box. But you need to do something, Betty. This isn't good for you. Tell the salesmen to take a hike and get thee to a doctor.
Be well. Please be well. Hugs.
PS I hope Ria kicks your ass for me. In a friendly, what the hell were you thinking way.
I agree w DM. I do think everyone has a right to choose to die but at 17, I don't hink you have experienced nearly enough and tried hard enough to be able to really make that decision. If you do want things to change, well, allow it. Get meds. Get proper therapy. Be honest abt it. 17 is horrible but it goes away and the rest of your life can be good if you want it to. Not all the time but I read something the other day: "Pain is inevitable, suffering is optional". You choose, and the time to do it would be abt now.
I still check out your blog once in a while.
Have you read The Catcher in the Rye? You should.
In it, an adult (teacher) tells the central (suicidal) character the most pertinent piece of information that any grown up can tell an adolescent. Sorry to patronise you by the way, but you are only an adolescent.
The lesson is this: Your life now is as tough as it's going to get. No misery is as cruel as that of an adolescent: BUT IT GETS BETTER - And you get better at dealing with any miseries which strike.
Hold on to that thought.
X
Post a Comment