On the night of February 1st, 2012, I was admitted into the ER for two suicide attempts--yes, I said two. The night before that I had ingested 10 cyclobenzaprine tablets and chased it with a full glass of vodka after having an embarrassing confrontation with one of my co-workers. When I woke up the next morning I was disappointed, but I slept all day--my husband even took off of work to take care of me.
That next night, when I became sober and alert, I was looking for more drugs and alcohol to take myself out with. That is when I figured out that my husband had hid all of my drugs and alcohol; however, I had some samples of aripiprazole that my new psychiatrist had given me, and I had it in my purse. Still in suicidal mode, I took all seven of the 2 mg pills (even though I knew that it wouldn't kill me--it was all I had). This is when I realied that I needed help. I told my husband, and he called EMS, who transported me into the ER that night. I was admitted into the psychiatric ward the following afternoon.
This is not the first time that this has happened. As a matter of fact, I had been battling depression, anxiety, and suicidal ideation as long as I can remember; however, I have only been treated for it recently. Being verbally abused by family members, peers, and teachers would make anyone depressed. Not to mention that I was called ugly on a daily basis from elementary school all the way through high school. An abusive relationship during college is what landed me into the psych ward for the first time.
Along with depression comes anxiety and irritability. I've noticed having anxiety problems as a child. I would get easily upset if a "friend" left me out of something or said something that I didn't like, which caused me to ruin friendships and make my peers dislike me.
Because of the abuse and disrespect that I had experienced when I was young, I am overly sensitive and defensive when I perceive someone is disrespecting me (perceive being the opporative word of the sentence). Since I did not stand up for myself like I should have back then, I tend to overcompensate and get outrageously upset if I feel like someone is being nasty toward me or is criticizing me. I have a tendency to act--or react--immaturely by cussing or name-calling because I did not get the chance to defend myself as a child. I have been seeing a counselor to work on this part of myself.
My depression took a turn for the worst after the birth of my first child. It seems that everything just kinda spun out of control. I started drinking more, and my marriage started falling apart. That is when I finally got treated. I was stable on my medications for a couple of years, until after I had my second child. I gave up taking one of my meds so that I could breastfeed--that did not work out. After a month, I was put back on it and had to stop breastfeeding. After that, things have kinda been "out-of-wack."
People who are depressed are not crazy--they are people who just want to be understood and loved for who they are, good or bad. The people I have met during my recent hospital stay are a few of the sweetest, nicest, most caring and generous people that I have ever met. Although I was ready to go home, I enjoyed the time I have spent with those people. Because we were experiencing similar disorders, we all understood where each other were coming from, and we were at a place where we could be ourselves without being judged. Being around people just like yourself who understand what you are going through, especially when you think the world has turned its back on you because of the baggage that comes with being depressed, is a good feeling.
Right now I feel great. I feel like I am in control again, and hopefully, I won't have to experience another episode like that again...
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