Hello blog readers! I had an assignment for one of my classes to write a short story about a life event, which inspired me to write a mini-series for this blog about the aftermath of my suicide attempt! Cheerful, huh? Don’t get too worried about it being super heavy and depressing. That is not my goal. My goal is to paint a picture of what it was like to receive treatment. I will be releasing segments of this story every Tuesday evening, so stay tuned! To get you all started on this journey with me, I am going to tell you about the actual suicide attempt.
It was a Sunday that I decided to take my life. I had been thinking about doing it for a while, and I had made my decision a few days before I actually went through with it. There were three reasons I waited until that Sunday. One: I was signed up as a driver for my school’s wildlife club trip to see a swan banding demonstration on the Saturday. I didn’t want people to end up not being able to go because I had died. Two: I had volunteered to help my friend make soup for my residence’s Sunday soup kitchen (we all got together and ate soup; we didn’t feed the homeless). I didn’t want to leave all of the work to her, and I didn’t want to ruin the soup kitchen, so I decided to wait until after that was over with. Three: I had borrowed my mom’s car, and I needed to get it back to her. I also had a coffee date that day, but I didn’t really care; I didn’t even shower for it.
In retrospect, those all seem like really minor things in comparison to death. But at the time, I thought I was a burden to everyone around me. To me, it only made sense to do what I had promised others before taking my life because I didn’t want my death to be a burden to anyone. I really thought I was doing my friends and family a favour. I mean, I knew they would be sad at first. But I thought that after their grieving period was over, they would feel a sense of relief because they would be done putting up with all my problems.
Once I finished all of my commitments, I locked myself into my room to end my life since I didn’t want anyone to try and stop me. However, I felt the need to apologize to two people before I killed myself. I apologized to the guy who had been emotionally abusive towards me because I felt so guilty about my anxiety, and I apologized to my friend for warning her not to date him when she had a crush on him. I feel like an idiot for apologizing for those things now. I’m glad I got in the way of this guy dating my friend because she is one of the sweetest people I know. She deserves a lot better. I probably didn’t warn her in the most tactful way, since I had to get drunk to muster up the courage to do something I knew would get me in serious trouble with this guy. But I’m still glad I warned her. I used to feel like an idiot for apologizing to this guy right before I attempted suicide because I felt like it made me feel weak, but I don’t care if he sees me as weak anymore. I don’t give a fuck what he thinks anymore because he has been cut out of my life for good.
After making my apologies, I wrote out a note that said, “This isn’t anyone’s fault but my own.” Then I gathered all of the pills in my room into a pile and poured a drink. I was feeling pretty shaky, so I decided to take my anti-anxiety pills first to calm me down. I have no evidence to prove this, but I think that decision may have been what saved my life. My anti-anxiety pills made me really sleepy when I took 0.5 mg at a time, and I think that the amount that I took that night knocked me unconscious before I could swallow enough pills to actually die. I don’t know for sure because I don’t remember a whole lot after that point until waking up the next day. And that’s for me to write about next week. *SPOILER ALERT!* I didn’t die.
Post Suicide Attempt: Chapter 1 – https://sophiebuck.wordpress.com/2013/11/05/post-suicide-attempt-chapter-1/