Pills, Alcohol, and Suicide

January 30, 2010
By Anonymous

Written January 1,2010

I swallowed the adavan knowing if I just waited another twenty minutes, the pain would subside. I was with my younger brother Luke, him and I are the closest in our family and definitely the most clear headed ones out of the bunch, we’re one of five kids. I was sitting in my car, the one I had worked hard for, working a year and a half at Rite Aid to earn enough money to buy my own car, one no one could confiscate because it was mine that was purchased with my money. I sat in my little blue Ford Escort, smoking a Marlboro menthol waiting for the pill to alleviate the pain of what I was feeling, hoping it would be relieved before I had work that night. All I could remember was the phone conversation my mom and dad were having, it was more like a screaming match, the two of them despise one another. “Your one sick mother f***, who is destroying my relationship with all of my children,” my mother screamed over the phone as my dad yelled back how she was such a crazy b**** which got my step mom involved which of course never turns out well. My step mom grabbed the phone and yelled at my mother telling her how much damage she was causing me and how she needs to open her eyes to what she is doing to my well being. After the argument, my mom threatened to call child services on my dad, this wouldn’t be the first time somoneone has done this to him. The overwhelming feeling of confusion and anger rushed through my body, as I was forced to face the harsh reality of my life and what has really been happening between my parents for many years now, probably since they’ve been divorced back in 1994. I didn’t know what to think anymore I’ve always had mixed messages between the two of my parents about who was the “bad guy,” and who was the “good guy.” For about two years I fell under my mom’s belief that my dad was an abusive alcoholic and now I’m sitting here living with my dad who’s telling me my mom’s a bipolar b****, I just can’t find a fitting place where I know I belong, and I feel as if I will not find this place until I’m out in the world experiencing life all on my own.

I took my last drag of my cigarette and began driving to work, I put my car in park in front of the restaurant and thought for about ten minutes about my parents, my older brother, and the boy who raped me over this past summer, everything was building up causing this uncontrollable feeling I couldn’t get rid of. I drove away from my job knowing if I stepped one foot in there I would have a complete anxiety attack. I knew my plan for the night, I would go back to my dad’s have a few shots of vodka and feel numb, just sitting there, allowing myself to not think of anything at all, just the feeling of nothing but stillness, and numbing running through my veins. This is the only feeling I begged for at that moment.

Written January 1, 2010

The clear bottle of vodka was staring me straight in the face almost as if it was tempting me to just swig the bottle, letting the alcohol hit the back of my throat which would go down, into my veins, intoxicating my body, allowing it to become numb and out of control. I fell for the temptation and took the bottle put it to my lips and let it flow down my throat. Shot after shot, I didn’t find the need to stop until I couldn’t feel anything anymore.

It was about my seventh shot when I began feeling woozy, light headed and nauseous, but what should I have expected I was indeed drinking to get trashed, and I did what I needed to do in that moment and time. I ran outside of my basement tripping over myself in my heels, I fell flat on my knees in the bushes of my neighbor’s yard, vomiting everywhere, this was somewhat of a comforting feeling I’m not sure why it was, but I was alone in the dark with my head in the dirt with vomit dripping down my chin and I felt better for the twenty minutes I was there, I felt like it was a sanctuary of peace for me, no one was around to yell at me, no parents fighting, and no little siblings expecting me to be some sort of a role model for them, here in that moment and time I was allowed to be myself and no one was around to judge who I was.

I rouse myself up from the soaking wet ground to return to the basement. My mood immediately turned from tranquility to nothing but the thoughts of death penetrating my mind, it was flooding my thoughts and all I could think about was the image of my body standing in the middle of the main road with a car coming 40 miles per house striking me, ending my life.

I stumbled into the basement toward my younger brothers for what I thought would be my final goodbye. “I do not want to be in this world any longer,” I struggled to slur these words out of my vomit covered mouth. As I hugged both of them and explained how much love I had for them I ran to the basement door, toward my destination of death. A car was coming down my road as I walked toward it. I can’t remember the thoughts that I had walking into the road, it was if my mind was already dead and no thoughts were coming. My brothers came up behind me grabbing me, both hysterical they wouldn’t let me go, they wouldn’t let me leave this world, they saved my life.

Written January 1, 2010

The white plaster walls intimidated me and made me feel like I was truly insane. I stood in my hospital gown, no jewelry on, no nail polish, and of course no makeup. I couldn’t control my emotions, this was the first time I felt the feeling of tears on my face since July of 2009 after the rape I was so numb I wasn’t able to cry, I was completely numb the months up until now, and now I wasn’t able to stop myself from crying, the taste of the salty tears running down my bare face made me feel like I was alive and that I actually had emotion again. I begged the nurses to let me out of this place, I couldn’t breathe, the feeling of colstraphobia was torturing me, and there was no way out of this place and no view of the outside world besides a small window in my room where I was admitted.

I tried to breathe but nothing was working, the psycho nurses tried forcing pills down my throat but I didn’t want anything but to be set free. I cried and cried hoping someone would have some feeling of sympathy in them to set me free, just to open the doors and let me out of this hole. I felt more and more crazy every second I took a breath in this place, this setting just screamed insanity.

The nurses refused to let me go, no of them cared I was crying and none of them cared that I couldn’t breathe, they just told me to go eat my dinner, I didn’t want to eat, I didn’t want pills, I didn’t want to sleep, but sleeping was the only option for me at this point. I walked to my room laid myself down on the plastic mattress, with metal underneath crying myself to sleep, praying that someone would rescue me tomorrow.

Five AM I was woken by a heavy setted woman brining me down to a tiny room, appearing to be a miniature doctors office, the entire place was filled with colstophobic things and places. I was told to lay on the examining table as she stuck a needle in my arm and drew blood for about five minutes and instructed me to pee in the paper cup so she could test for pregnancy even though I reassured her I wasn’t even sexually active and hadn’t been for more than half a year. Trust wasn’t even a word in this place, no one was trusted and everyone assumed that every word that came out of your mouth was a lie, I’ve never been so mortified and never felt as if I didn’t have right over my body, everyone here controlled everything you did. What you ate was managed, when you sleped was out of your control, when you showered was decided by the nurses, and your free time was up to how much “trust” the nurses had in you. For the first time in my life I learned to keep my mouth shut, just following the orders of the people just hoping I could convince them I didn’t belong here. I wanted to in the worst way kill all of them, run out of the locked doors, and be free, this was the worst place I have ever been in the entirety of life, I am convinced this place will never cure any “crazy” person but just make them a weaker person who believes others have control over their bodies and that no one had the right to make choices for themselves

The author's comments:
The motivation for me to write this piece was to share the tragic experience I went through and to help others who have reached rock bottom to know that they aren't alone.

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This article has 1 comment.

rb100 said...
on Mar. 3 2010 at 3:18 pm
Awesome, really helped me through things i went through also


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