I think many of us take alone time and personal space for granted (also just life in general), I mean I definitely did. Of course I didn’t realize that until after I had it taken away from me. It all started on a Wednesday night, it was a normal day and night. Nothing was unusual or bad about the day, yet for some reason I felt the need to take a bottle of pills out of my drawer and take them, all, one at a time. I have struggled with depression, self harm, and suicidal thoughts since about 7th grade, I am now in 9th grade. That night I then went to sleep and woke up a couple hours after that, I had to use the restroom. I sat up and instantly wished I hadn’t, everything was spinning, it was a constant feeling of almost passing out, I stood up and then proceeded to fall onto my carpet. I couldn’t hold myself up, so on the way to the bathroom I braced myself against walls and furniture. I was so scared, I didn’t understand what these drugs would do to me (Tylenol) I thought I might actually die and I was terrified, I wasn’t ready, I couldn’t believe what I had done. Early that morning, I woke up and instantly started vomiting, like… a lot. I was so happy I had woken up, but I was also very scared because I didn’t really know what was happening in my body. Eventually I thought I was done throwing up, so I made the decision to go to school (an awful decision by the way), I ended up throwing up in my math class, it was very, very, very, awful. So they sent me to the nurse, everyone thought is was a stomach bug, even my parents. That is, until that night, at about 7, I told my mom what had happened. She called poison control and probably did some research on her own. She ended up taking my the hospital that night, they took tests, many of them, people came in and told me sad stories of overdoses, and suicides, then the doctor came in, telling me I must be emitted to another hospital, in an ambulance because they needed to get me started on the antidote. At that time I was more worried about costs than my well being, and that worry stayed for a while.
At the new hospital, I was in a weird section where they keep all us suicidal kiddos. I had a sitter, they were there 24/7. When I went to the bathroom I had to leave the door cracked, and the same when I showered. It was frustrating, but I understand their policy. It was just annoying because I had absolutely no urge to do ANYTHING after the crap I had done. Finally, probably after my 3rd day of being there, I just accepted that this was how things were gonna be. Everyday we played a waiting game, seeing how much my liver enzymes would go down, there were 2 that they looked at. Both of them are normally under 30, One of mine got to 600 and the other got to 1000. For me to be medically cleared, they would have to both lower to half their peak. They had raised everyday for about 3 days, finally they started going down and it took about 4 days for them to get where they wanted them to be. Now it was time for my mental health, of course… Yay! But I mean considering the situation, I understand what I had to do. They shipped me over the a place called Cedar Springs, basically a mental hospital. (I might do another post just on that place) We had groups everyday, I had a roommate, overall it wasn’t all that bad, of course I don’t want to go back, but it was better than I had expected. The day I got discharged was the best day in my whole life…Then things went downhill….My school work had been piling up for 2 weeks. I had a ton of stress on me. But what do ya know, here I am, writing this to you, all caught up on my school work and healthy! Yay me! (trademark London Tipton from Suite Life of Zach and Cody)