On January 24th, 2019 my life changed forever. On this day at 10 pm, I attempted to take my life. I overdosed on 3 different types of pills totally at just over 100 plus pills. The paramedics saved my life by keeping me breathing and although weak, a pulse. At the hospital, I stopped breathing. 3x I died and was brought back. After the 3rd time, I was unable to breathe on my own. So I was put on a breathing machine for 3 days. I woke on day 4. Mad, angry, sad, ashamed, wishing I was dead but glad I wasn't. I was so confused and I felt extremely alone. I want to disappear. After 4 days in the ICU, I was taken to general for almost 4 more days due to a 104-degree fever before being sent to an inpatient facility. I stayed at the inpatient hospital for 8 days before I was allowed to come home.
At the time of the suicide attempt, I felt confused, alone, like a burden, hopeless, and like everyone in my life would be better off if I was dead. I couldn't breathe, I was drowning. I was far down into my depression that I could only see darkness and I couldn't feel anything but the water surrounding me at the deepest part of the ocean. I was cold. I was scared. I was in so much pain, all I wanted was for the pain to end. To be numb.
I felt calm and happy at the time of the suicide attempt. I wanted to die. I wanted to stop the pain and the breathing because at that time I was fighting to survive, to breathe, to smile, be happy, just to be alive.
I got out and things started to turn for the better. I got on meds. I started to see the light. I was able to breathe and smile. I was still struggling. Still self-harming. Still suicidal. But I was fighting. I had to try to live. That's when I decided to do one thing I had always wanted to do because hell, I just tried to kill myself so why not put everything into one thing. So I decided to look into being an EMT. Within a week of my decision, I was CPR, First Aid and AED certified. I was determined to be an EMT. I want to be the best EMT I can be.
And then my world crashed around me again. On March 17th, 2019 at 11:30 pm, I was raped by a friend of 3 years. With my neck bruised and the soft tissue damaged from him choking me to the raw painful feeling of peeing, I hated myself. I felt crushed and stupid like I had done something wrong. Once again I couldn't breathe. I cried all the way home. I got home and ran into my husband's arms and told him everything that had happened. He held me in anger. Not at me but at the guy who had just shattered his wife. I felt like everything I had worked so hard for over the last month and a half was just ruined. He took everything from me and I didn't have much to give. I felt so damn broken.
I did a rape kit, filed a report and went back to inpatient because all I wanted to do was plunge a knife into my neck. I wanted to die all over again. I spent 6 days in the inpatient hospital I was previously at. I was able to talk about the rape and my feelings and just let everything out. I met some life long friends. I got the support I needed. And I came home to a strong support system. I have fought to get better after my suicide attempt and I have already given up so much power and control throughout my life, I wasn't going to give away any more.
I have nightmares. I still can't breathe. I still feel overwhelming sadness. But I am alive. I will keep fighting. I start EMT school on April 9th, 2019 and I am so excited. I will not give my depression or my rapist the power they want. I deserve to be happy and for once I am going to keep fighting for me.
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