Wednesday, November 20, 2013

K is for Kill

I wasn't trying to kill myself. I was just trying to calm the panic crashing over my head in overwhelming waves of grief, sorrow, shame, hopelessness...
I took one Ambien and two Xanax. They did not work. So I added three Clonazepam, two more Ambien, and three more Xanax. The enveloping panic would not go away, so I took even more. I don't know what I took. I think I just took one more cocktail and then realized that I had taken a frighteningly large amount of medication in a very short amount of time.
My psychiatrist answered her phone at 10:30 at night and pushed me to find a nearby friend to drive me to the hospital. It was find a friend or she would call 911. I tried to think of a way to get out of both, but 1) I was afraid I might accidentally kill myself, and 2) My brain wasn't working very well. So I called my most loyal friend (I'm sorry you have to keep saving me) and she came to pick me up.
Then I woke up on my couch at 1:42 the next afternoon.

I have no idea what happened in between. I did go to the hospital, I had no traces of charcoal, and my friend told me that they kept me for observation but believed her when she relayed to them what I had told her - that I wasn't trying to kill myself. The stupid things I do...

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Don't make me talk to myself, yo.

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