I am an adult woman. I have been depressed for as long as I can remember. I have Borderline Personality Disorder and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder as a result of the life I have experienced and am working on unexpiriencing.
At 15 I tried to kill myself. I took a as many sleeping pills as I could find, which were about 80, and wrote a note in my favorite Traper Keeper. I didn't go through with it. My Grandmother had heart problems and took medication for it. I went into the kitchen and stared at the bottles but I put them back and instead grabbed the Tylenol Pm. I could have also drank a couple bottles of wine my Mother had on top of the fridge but I didn't. I just poured a glass of water and took every last one of them and threw the empty bottles onto the floor next to my bed. I sat, fetal position, rocking back and forth at the edge of my bed crying hysterically thinking that what if I did die, what then? The other thought was, maybe I made a mistake..FUCK! In the end I went with the FUCK thought and woke my Mom up and called her into my room. I said to her, still rocking back and forth - still sitting at the edge of my bed - still sobbing, "Mom, I don't want to die.". In that moment the look in her eyes was one that I had not seen in quite some time. It was a panic, scared, I'm going to loose my baby that I love, look. I missed that look and I hadn't seen it for a long time up until that moment.
I am not going to go through the entire nights events or the following days right now but rather just go into each moment as it shines from the back of my eyes and tingling the tips of my fingers to get it out, piece by piece, moment by moment.
This...this is my life. Am I proud of it? Right now? No. Tomorrow? Maybe. The day after? Yes. Just not today.
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