I admit it...I'm a little bit chicken about cracking open that first journal. I will, and soon, just not today! In the meantime....let me tell you more about the hospital...more about how I got there...
I wasn't supposed to live. I took an incredible amount of drugs and if my husband hadn't arrived home uncharacteristically on time, my suicide would have been a success. Just a few more minutes would have made all the difference. I don't remember the actual drugging...I remember little bits and pieces....I have a vivid picture of mixing up the drugs with water and vodka, a white mixture, trying to get all of the pills to melt.
I kind of remember that I wrote out a will and notes to everyone in my family....I don't remember doing it so much as just know that I did...I remember that I made sure everything was done: all of the animals were fed, the house was straight, etc. I remember that I had decided to lay down to die in the spare bedroom, so as not to make it uncomfortable for my husband to sleep in our bed. I was very accommodating right to the end. I tried to make what was to be my death as simple and comfortable for everyone as I could. Isn't that crazy? I had lived that way for so long, so many years, that I wouldn't think of inconveniencing anyone with my death. I just wanted to be gone. I did not want to live the life I was 'living' any longer. And I had completely convinced myself that the ONLY way to fix my problem was suicide. I felt that I didn't have the money or any place to go where I wouldn't be 'inconveniencing' someone. I made myself believe...and I also felt that some of the things I would be facing soon I would just rather be dead than have to go through. There is a huge amount of irony regarding that, and I will get to it a little later.
Its funny, it seems like some crazy story now, I have no physical scars or real memories to make me believe it happened. I do know what happened to all of my family and friends, however. Believe me, they let me know. When I woke up, I thought I was upside down, laying upside down, but they say this isn't so. My family and friends came in two by two to say hello to me....at this time I was still tied to the bed and intubated (?), so I couldn't move really or speak. It all seemed like it happened in a couple of minutes, but I'm told that this went on for hours, because I went in and out of consciousness. I do remember two young psychiatrists-to-be that came in and started yelling at me...things like 'why did you do this?' ' what is wrong with you?' ' don't you know what a horrible thing you did?' They totally scared the hell out of me....I didn't know what they were talking about, so they freaked me out. They were later reported to the head of their department for their 'bedside manners' or lack thereof. I don't really know how long I was in there once I woke up. I know at some point they took the tube out from down my throat, and took my catheter out as well so that I could go to the bathroom in a chair thing in the ICU while being watched and helped (I was extremely weak) It was only the beginning of the indignities that I had to suffer in these early days of my re-birthing.
I'm tired now....I'll try to add another installment soon....thanks for your patience and understanding.
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