(Sorry if you saw my posts from the past two days or so, while an interesting example of someone losing their mind, they had some spelling errors. And coherency issues.)
A couple days ago was a milestone reminder (want to stop saying anniversary) and I invited Drunk Robert back to my place and the rest is mostly gone, somewhat of a blur. I ended up in the hospital, spent a day there and they discharged me. I’ll admit it was a suicide attempt, and I started it by drinking, knowing my drunk self would try and kill me, though this one feels different.
I have attempted four times now. The others were either well planned out, or spur of the moment things. Afterward I felt foolish or stupid (always disappointed in the outcome) or more depressed. But they were mine, and my responsibility. This one was too, but now, afterward, I feel all of that but also like it was something that happened to me. I guess because of the lost time/blackout.
What I do remember over the 11 hours or so is screaming, crying, feeling out of control. I bought the alcohol myself. I called 911 myself. Between those two events is missing. I have bruises, carpet burns, cuts and abrasions, as well as bite marks. My favorite flower vase is destroyed, a drawer under my bed is broken, and part of a door jam was broken. The couch was moved to one end of the room, and I fully expect to find things missing or moved or broken in the days to come. I have no idea how there wasn’t a noise complaint, because none of that looks quiet. Honestly I’m surprised the balcony doors weren’t open, for obvious reasons.
So now I’m past that. I’ll be dealing with it for a while. I’m confused and disappointed both in myself and in Drunk Robert (to some extent.). But honestly I don’t know what’s next. They keep letting my leave the hospital, or program, or my treatments. When is it no longer safe for me to be alone? Ever?
I’m feeling much more safe now. I’m at the cabin ad I’m not alone, and having someone around helps. It doesn’t hurt to see a beautiful lake. I’m sore, which will pass. My wounds will heal. One of the bite marks is down to just an ugly bruise. I feel like this is all a massive setback for me. One of the clinical notes said that my current Day Program thinks I need a higher level of care. There’s only so far up the program ladder we can go though.
I will have to do a lot of work with my therapist. She’s a saint, but I promised her I would call if I was going to do anything, and I didn’t. And if I were her I would be losing patience. I will meet with the rest of my care team and have to explain it all again and again.
I know the subject is how to survive a suicide, not a suicide attempt. It feels like the correct way to put it, somehow. Like I didn’t just try it, I got partially through it. I’m so banged up, and it was such a violent experience. As I said before, it happened to me. Honestly I didn’t think I had it in me to beat me so violently, and that’s the scary part.
That’s all. No long set of posts describing my hospitalization or memories of other events. I feel like I can leave those be this time.
a Scarlet D 
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