A failed attempt

Ok, so, I thought I'd say something about last Friday night / early Saturday morning.

Well it is no secret that I have been going through depression for a few months now. There are so many reasons why I've wanted to end my life. And every week that passes, it seems like I just add to that list. Friday night I had had enough. I was physically and emotionally exhausted. I got to the point where t I felt that I deserved to die.

And so I tried it. I tried to overdose on prescription medications.

First, I went to the kitchen. I literally chugged a bunch of cold jagermeister. (Probably like 4-6oz or so) It burned my throat and was so strong, but I didn't care. Then I headed to the bedroom. I took over a dozen muscle relaxers, several 800mg ibuprofen, and the handful of pain killers I had left. And seeing as how I took it all on an empty stomach, I felt it hit me pretty quick. I got light headed and a little dizzy. It didn't take long before my body started feeling really tired, like, a heavy feeling where it takes so much effort to just walk to the bed and lay down. I don't remember laying there for more than a minute or so before I fell asleep or passed out or whatever.

A couple hours later, I vaguely remember him coming into the room to let me know he was leaving for a while. A few hours after that, at approximately 12:30pm (much to my dismay), I woke up. Well, ok, let's put it this way: I was conscious. He was home again. Apparently for the next couple hours, everything I said made no sense. My brain was seriously messed up bad. There were even a couple times when, as I was talking, I thought to myself "what the hell am I talking about?" It was very weird, and scary too.

As I was "talking" to him, he must've asked me like 5 times "What are you on? Seriously?" But of course I did not tell them that the night before I drugged myself in hopes of dying. I would've ended up in a psychiatric hospital real quick I am sure. I even sent a weird text message to my mother in law. They had asked me what I was doing, and I replied with: 'Nothing ... snd you.watwatchi?' and then another text that said: 'Watch*' Good grief. She told me today she was and has been worried about me. Hmm... I wonder why? It is scary to think that overdosing (but not dying) and having to live with consequences like that - that's scary. So, I've decided that, if there is a next time, I will be sure to complete the task at hand.

Hopefully, though, there will be no next time. And on that note, I think I should call my psychiatrist and perhaps get my antidepressant or dosage changed or re-implement a mood stabilizer/anti-psychotic. Because if my depression is this bad, I can only imagine what my next manic episode could be like. And I certainly don't want that either.

Oh, how I wish I could go back to the days before I became bipolar. To be "normal" again - not being so damn crazy emotionally and mentally. **sigh**