Within a week of being officially dumped by my baby-daddy, I rebounded. I rebounded hard. We were not a good match for each other. We had none of the same interests. But I could take care of him and drink with him and numb myself however I could with him. I let a friend move in. She needed a place to stay, and I invited her in. She took my rebound from me. My depression and self-doubt made it impossible to voice my concerns or even just my feelings to him and he left me for her. Over a text, while with her in my back yard. That was rough. At that point though, all the pain I had been burying for those 6 months finally came forth. I went for a drive. I grabbed two bottles of wine, a couple canvases and paint brushes. When I got home, I brought everything up to my room. Then I took both bottles of wine out to the back yard. I sat and drank from the bottle staring at the pond until I felt something click in my head. I physically felt some kind of click in the base of my skull. I can still hear it and feel it when I think back...
At the sound of that click, my thoughts changed. I suddenly felt a kind of eerie calm. I got up with my bottles. I went inside. Up the stairs to the bathroom. I grabbed a handful of expired aspirin and put the bottle back. I didn't want anyone to know what it was. I didn't want to be saved. I gave my 'dad' a hug. I gave my cat some love. I called my son, my friends, my mother... There's where my mistake was. She knew what I was planning. But it was too late. I had already downed the pills, chased them with the wine. I hung up with her and laid down. Everything started to blur by. I remember my 'dad' coming in frantically on the phone. I remember the EMT woman, she was kind. Next think I know I am at the ER. Friends come to see me, just friends, no family. My mood shifts to being a bit loopy. Until I start hearing a low rumbling in my ears. Like a train is coming. The doctor asked how long it had been happening (about 10-15 minutes at that point) then rushed me to the ICU.
Obviously, I lived. I am still here. Since that day I have the conscious ability to shut off my emotions to feel nothing but an eerie calm. It's been helpful a few times. I remember during rehab I learned that attempted suicide could cause PTSD. I don't know if I have PTSD from that experience. I know I've been feeling wrong for the past week or so, but I've just ignored it. I've been trying to push thru. It's just another day. I have no real reason to be upset. But today, I saw in my Facebook memories that it's my 5-year anniversary of the day I almost died by my own hand. The day the universe made me realize I had a purpose to stay and fight. The day I lived. I guess the anniversary was yesterday, now. I hate sleep. I never know what my mind is going to put me through. I will continue to keep my head up and push through. I can do that at least...
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