My Suicide Attempt

To read the background story of my struggle with depression, click here.

I've felt like I wanted and needed to share my suicide story for a while, but it's rather scary to share it. Now that it is several months later, I'm not embarrassed or ashamed about it. I've actually started talking about it in a matter of fact way during some conversations. In honor of National Suicide Prevention Week this week, I decided it was time to share my story. This post will give a timeline of what happened and share parts of journal entries I wrote while in the hospital (quotations in italics). It seems less scary to share what I've already written.

Thursday, April 28, 2016

I overdosed Thursday on Tylenol PM. I took 28 pills over the course of the day. Finally, I asked to be taken to the ER around 11:30 pm. I'm still not sure why I overdosed other than I stopped caring about anything.

I didn't recognize the warning signs the days leading up to Thursday. I've now since learned that I become enraged and then I just don't care about anything. It's a coping mechanism, albeit a bad one, for when I can't deal with the situation anymore. I don't recall a specific trigger for that day. I know I was angry and then said "Screw it. I'm done." And I meant it. I specifically went to the store to buy a bottle of Tylenol PM with the intention to kill myself. I took a few and went to sleep. When I woke up, I took several more. This happened over and over throughout the day. Finally, I was feeling nauseated and a rational thought kicked in.

I texted my friend, Liz and asked her to take me to the hospital. I'm very fortunate that I had the rationality in the moment to ask for help and that she was still awake.

Friday, April 29, 2016

I was cognizant enough when we arrived at the hospital that I could provide all the necessary information to check me into the ER. I threw up before being taken back to a room, so my stomach didn't need to be pumped. I'm grateful for that. Sometime after midnight, I was taken to a room and hooked up to an IV, was poked and prodded for blood tests, asked to give a urine sample (which is really hard for me even on a good day). Liz was a trooper and stayed with me for a couple hours. She contacted the people who needed to know where I was, such as my ward leaders, family, and work.

I spent the night in the ER room while they ran tests on my liver and monitored my vitals. Around lunch time, I was admitted to a regular hospital room under 24 hour surveillance. I had a CNA or nurse with me at all times. While there, more tests were done and more IVs were given to flush my system. I had a few visitors and several phone calls from friends and family to check on me. There was a mixture of shock and concern. A friend even brought me ice cream!

I was able to have a serious talk with the night nurse about what happened. It was the first time I felt safe talking about my suicide attempt. Most of the doctors I had talked to up to that point had made me feel like I was being lectured. I knew it was a very serious situation, so I didn’t need a lecture about that. If I hadn’t known the severity of the situation, I probably wouldn’t have asked to go to the hospital. I was thankful to have a nurse treat me as an adult and a person who needed help.

Saturday, April 30, 2016

Sometime after breakfast, the doctor came in with the test results on my liver. Everything was alright.

I could have done serious damage to my liver and body, but I am fine through the grace of God. It truly is a miracle that I did not have any permanent damage. This paradoxically feels like rock bottom and a good thing. I don’t believe in coincidences, so I will use this time in the hospital to focus on my recovery without too many distractions. For a long time, I have felt like I have been losing my faith. I think I was fooling myself and letting Satan lie to me. This experience has reawakened my soul to feel again. I still have time left on Earth to give to God.

I spent most of the day in my hospital room waiting to be transferred to the Behavior Unit. After being cooped up in my room for such a long time, my nurse and I did laps around the hall. We even gave my IV stand a clever name, although I can’t remember it now.

Around dinner time, I was transferred to the Behavior Unit of the hospital. I must say I was nervous beyond all get out. I had sent most of my things home with a friend because I knew there were more restrictions on the Behavior Unit.

The unit here is pretty restrictive. In order to keep us safe and help with recovery, I don’t have access to any electronics including my phone. Visitors can visit for one hour each day in the evening. Phone calls are less restricted, so I wrote down as many phone numbers as I could before having to hand over my phone. So far, the staff and other residents have been nice and offered me support.

I pretty much arrived with only the clothes on my back. My phone and a few other things that weren’t allowed were placed in a bin and locked away for safe keeping. I had a private room with a bathroom and a nice view out the window of the mountains. I almost could see my apartment complex down the street. Upon arriving, I felt so lost and alone that I broke down in tears in my room. The emotions of my reality were sinking in. The doctor came in for my assessment and found me crying near the window. He was really reassuring and one of the kindest men I have ever met.

Because my transfer from the regular hospital to the confidential unit was so quick, I managed to text a few friends and family the info before having to turn in my phone. There was one funny mishap that came from that transition. I had asked a friend to visit me after I was transferred. Here’s what happened.

[My friend] rode his bike to the hospital all the way from Sandy (about 9 miles) to visit me but was sent away because he didn’t know my floor. Because I am a confidential patient, I am not listed on the regular list at the front desk. He called my unit on his way home. He accused me of being a ghost and then told me all the items he had brought for me to help stave off boredom. Most of the items turned out to be not allowed, so it kind of worked out for the best. His gesture was really sweet. I appreciated his thoughtfulness so much that first day.

If you or someone you know needs help, visit this suicide prevention resources page.

If you need support right now, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255 or text “Hello” to 741-741.