The (Almost) End

October 12, 2011
By Anonymous

“Why does this always have to happen to me? Everyone is leaving my life! Nothing ever goes right! I finally trust someone and then they always leave!” I said to myself hysterically.

My boyfriend Josh was moving three and a half hours away. That's not all. The day before we had just lost our virginity to each other. Neither one of us was quite ready, but we were both very sure. I finally trusted someone enough to give him a part of me and he had to leave me.

Josh's sister decided she didn't want to take care of Josh anymore so she sent him back to their mom to live with her again. Josh and I both hated this plan. Josh came up with another idea- to run away. He urged me to come along saying, “Come with me! We can get food and gas money from my uncle. You can pick me up and we can drive to his house in California and live with him there. That way we can be together! We can stay until I turn 18 and then we can get married and do whatever we want!” I considered this. I decided running away wouldn't work; we would get caught. I had another plan that came to mind: suicide. I felt like I was losing the biggest part of my life. I thought I couldn't, I wouldn't live without Josh.

I decided to end my life by liver failure; it can't be too hard, right? I looked up on-line how much Acetaminophen is lethal. I found a couple different answers so I decided that I would try the lower dose and work my way up until I finally died. I was hoping the multiple doses several days in a row would cause too my stress to my liver and it would be too late by the time it got really bad.

The next morning, on a Monday, I went to Sunmart and got a package of Dayquil, a package of Niquil, and a bottle of Tylenol. I got to the register and used all of my cash to pay for the medicine. The cashier told me, “I hope you feel better.” I replied, “Thanks,” while thinking, “Yeah, right.” I walked back out to my car. As soon as I got in I started taking pills, careful that I only took 7000 milligrams. I then drove to Prairie outpatient care. No one there noticed how shaky or how out of it I was. I was falling asleep at the school, slouching deeply in every chair I sat in, and was just off in my own world thinking about Josh. On my inventory sheet every day I marked dizziness, lightheaded, and blurred vision. I was maybe hoping to be saved, but no one ever said anything.

I went to Prairie this way for four days in a row. Each day I added to the amount of Acetaminophen I took. On Thursday I took 12000 milligrams of Acetaminophen. Each time, nothing more than shakiness and dizziness happened. On both Wednesday and Thursday night I took Niquil, finishing the package in those two nights. I was desperate at this point. My pills and money were gone, and I was still living, without Josh.

That Thursday night I cut my wrist more and worse than I ever had before. The cuts were bleeding for hours and I was hoping that I would bleed to death. I eventually fell asleep, woozy from the loss and sight of so much blood. I woke up Friday morning with blood all over me and my sheets. My mom never noticed. I took the blades of my 4-blade razor and stuck them in my bra to take to Prairie. I knew I could get away with this because the metal detector always went off on the under wire of my bra. I went to the bathroom to cut right when I got to Prairie, before school, and during school. The staff noticed the blood on the sleeve of my purple sweatshirt after the third time. They asked for what I used to cut and I gave them one of the blades. The nurse bandaged up my arm and I went back to school. I sat in the classroom crying, wishing that I was dying. I grabbed another blade from my bra and cut in the classroom. I got caught and the staff took my second blade. They asked if I had anything else I could use to cut and I gave them my third blade, saying it was the last of a 3-blade razor.

I talked to the Psychiatrist and he sent me back to inpatient. He was very upset with me for cutting myself. He showed no sympathy. When I got to inpatient the staff did an extensive search and I had to take everything but my bra and underwear off. I did have to shake them out though. The fourth and final blade never fell out and I was grateful. I still had one blade left to use to end it all if I felt the need. I only ever cut my ankle, to hide it from staff. This was no longer about Josh. This was something bigger, something inside me. I just had to figure out what it was.

While in Prairie I talked to another Psychiatrist. She suggested that since I had already been to Prairie, which is short term, 4 times, I should go to long-term treatment. My therapist helped my family decide where to send me.

On June 17th, 2011 I went to an adolescent care center. I now have not self-harmed since September 8th, 2011. A suicidal thought hasn't come to mind since September 12th, 2011. I am recovering. I will survive.

The author's comments:
I wrote this piece for English as a personal narrative. It turned out so well that I wanted to share it with others and maybe give them hope to continue on with life.

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