No one wants to talk about it, no one ever wants to think about it, no one thinks that it will affect them. But, it happens, and when it happens, hold on tight, hold on so damn tight because it's a crazy storm and only the strong survive.
How it started:It was 10pm, on a Monday night, after a long day. An off days in my book, I couldn't concentrate, I was irritable, I had numerous panic attacks that day. Then, as I was sitting and doing my homework, it hit me. I decided I didn't want to deal with it all again. I didn't want to suffer through another day of self hate, of constant anxiety, and I didn't want to deal with losing my will to live. I thought, "What will my friends and parents think when I'm gone?", "Will anyone miss me?", "Who will come to my funeral?". After having those thoughts plus many more, I acquired my "Plan" as they call it in the hospital. In the mix of it all, I thought about how my parents would feel getting the call that I'm gone.
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The emergency room: After sitting there contemplating if I should go through with it or not, I decided instead of ending it, I wanted help. I wanted to stop feeling this way. I needed to. I drove myself to the hospital Emergency Room, fearfully walking to the check in desk. With tears streaming down my face, I told the receptionist that I needed to be seen. She out of habit, asked "what for?". Then, just when I thought that I couldn't cry anymore, I let it all out, I said "I'm feeling suicidal, I have a plan". She just stopped what she was doing and looked at me. Stood up, grabbed my hands, and told me "You're safe now. We got you".
Getting admitted: I was in the waiting room for a total of about five minutes before a nurse came and got me. In those five minutes I fearfully texted two of my best friends telling them where I was, why I was there, and I needed them. Then the nurse came. There she calmly asked me, why I was there, even though she already knew. She knew that I wanted to be gone, but part of her also knew that I didn't want to. She started to escort me to my room, when she then explained that everything I had with me would be taken away. I had to change into hospital clothes, and was locked in a room from both doors. I had to have someone with me or near me most of the time. I was on "suicide watch". Mind you, I didn't have anyone with me but a nurse here and there or security. I was lonely which only made it worse.
I was given a dose of some sort of medicine after I had answered the same questions over and over. After I had to pee in a cup. After I had given my blood. I was in that white room all alone. My nurse at the time came in and told me my mom was on the phone. That was one of the scariest times while I was there. I was so worried that her and my dad would be mad, that they'd think I was overreacting, that I didn't need to waste the money being there. But it was completely opposite. It turns out, my friend had called my mom scared to death, and told her I was at a hospital but she wasn't sure which one and she wasn't sure what to do. Thankfully my mom knows so much about me she figured out which hospital I'd go to (BTW-so thankful for you, you know who you are).
By the time my parents arrived, I was in a dead sleep. They came in after being let in because of the locked doors. They had so many questions and I didn't have the answers. I was frustrated that I couldn't tell them why I didn't want to live anymore. I was so frustrated that anytime they tried to hug me or anything I freaked out, I screamed. I felt terrible, but every extra sensation made me feel like I was dying. All I wanted was my mom to cuddle me and for my dad to say "you got this goobs" but I couldn't, because everything was overwhelming. So much so that I went back to sleep, and I slept and slept and slept. I woke up the next morning. My mom had stayed all night, so we when we both woke up, we waited and waited and waited for the doctor. Not just any doctor, the Psychiatric Floor doctor.
The doctor: She was a very "rough" doctor to say the least. She had to be. Every case she deals with is different. She works with an entire spectrum of people. Some like me and some people who are mentally insane. But with all of that said, she came and asked me the same questions I had been asked before, plus one more. The hardest one yet, "Inpatient or Outpatient". I had to think about it because I was and still am scared of myself, but after thinking about it, I needed normality to make myself better, not a new room with new people. That's what I decided was best for me, whats best for you could be completely different. So, after deciding, which wasn't easy, she decided to change my medicine, up the dosage of my medicines, and send me home.
Home: I had to pack some things from my dorm to go home for a few days. I need some essentials; my contact case, contact solution, dry shampoo, hairbrush, etc. Being there hurt in so many ways, I was sad, I wanted to cry, but I didn't. I pushed through. I got my stuff and my mom and I made our journey home. While on the way home, I was really tired and unfocused, I don't remember much of the ride, except one phone call. One call that will stick with me forever. The person on the other end of the line asked, "Is she alright, is she going to be okay?". My mom responded holding back tears, "No she's not, but she will be". I realized then, my parents are going to fight for me and with me. This is a battle I will not lose.
This is my personal story of my first time getting help, it's hard. I'm not going to lie, admitting you need help is hard. But it's so worth it, because you are so worth it. You deserve to live, and doctors and nurses are there to keep you living. Your family wants you living. Your pets want you living. Even if you don't want to live, think of how others would feel if you just decided that today would be your last. Think how your parents would feel having to bury you. Think about how your friends would feel having to bear your casket at your funeral. Think about it.
Because you'll be okay, just not today.
National Suicide Hotline: Call 1-800-273-8255
