I don’t owe anyone anything, in the words of my psychiatrist, but I am writing this because I owe it to myself.
Last Wednesday, I overdosed. I attempted suicide and was very close to successful. If I disappeared from your life for a week, now you know why. If you have heard rumors concerning me, let me now either confirm them or put them to rest so that I, not you, can move on.
I was misdiagnosed, on the wrong medications, dealing with severe PTSD episodes, and deeply depressed. My emotional support animal was taken from me, stress was piling up, and I did what I always feared most. I wanted the pain to end, pain that those who do not suffer from mental illness or have not seen major trauma understand. I was scared, broken, and feeling very alone.
At the end of my rope, I tried to kill myself. I texted my friends to tell them I loved them and that I was sorry, and then I passed out. After a coma that I should not have come out of and two days in the ICU, I was sent to a behavioral health center. In this place, I met a host of people who have taught me empathy, hope, humor, patience, and faith. I spent three days in an intensive unit and was then sent to a unit called “Daybreak”.
That’s exactly what it was, too – it was a daybreak. I finally began to see a light in my life that has been missing for years. I was given the correct diagnosis, the right medication, and a support system that could not fail. I made friends who had the exact empathy I needed, and together we worked through problems that no one else could possibly understand.
Today, I was discharged was the BHC. I am facing a world full of judgments and challenges, some that existed before I was admitted and some that have come as a consequence of my actions. I have lost friends and some people have not been kind, but I refuse to let that affect me now. I am living my life for me, and for the good I can do for the others, and the judgments of those who do not understand do not matter.
I have gotten the help I need, and made amends with those who will accept them. I am not 100%, but I am alive and I know that it is because of God that I am. I should not have survived that amount of medication, but I am here with a second chance that I plan on taking full advantage of. I have not completely healed or recovered, but that comes with time.
My mom used to sing the lullaby “You Are My Sunshine” to me as a child, and this week I learned the true meaning behind those lyrics. I did not understand my impact on the world until I nearly left it, and now I know. I know why my parents sang that song for me. This time, I was very lucky, and by some miracle I did not take my dad’s sunshine away.
If you have unkind judgments about my decisions, you can keep those to yourself. However, I really, truly need to thank those friends and family who surrounded and supported and cared for me this week. I owe you, quite literally, my life.
I nearly drowned, but my head is above water now. I hope yours is too.
I love you.