A year ago yesterday was one of the worst days of my life. In one month two of my best friends wanted nothing to do with me anymore (which honestly was my fault). It was the day before Mother's Day and my husband was interviewing someone for his podcast. I thought to myself, "I can't take this rejection anymore, so I'm going to try to go away again, and never come back." I found my husband's keys which had the key to the safe where my medications were. I snuck into the safe and grabbed a bottle of my sleeping pills. It had just been refilled. I took all of the pills and layed in bed hoping I would fall asleep soon and not wake up. Soon, I started feeling guilty about what I had done. I started imagining how my husband would react if he found me dead, and knowing him he'd blame himself for it, when it had nothing to do with him. I started regretting my actions and thought, "Is this really worth it? Sure I lost two of my best friends, but is killing myself really worth it?" About thirty minutes after I took the pills my husband finished his podcast and came in the room not knowing what I had done. He said he was going to run some errands and asked if I wanted to come along. I said I was too tired to go with him. As he began to leave the room, something in me told me to tell him what I did. To this day I still don't know why I told him, but I stopped him and told him I OD'ed. He couldn't believe it and panicked. I showed him the empty bottle and he frantically started making phone calls. I slipped out of consciouncess (I can't spell) until I felt a rough rubbing on my chest. I started hearing my name calling me. I woke up slightly and saw my husband, my in-laws, and paramedics in my room. Every time I started slipping away they'd keep rubbing my chest really hard. I had a bruise there for a while from them doing it so much. I started puking and they had to give me oxygen. The paramedics would ask me questions and I'd try to answer with sounds but I was so tired. I had ringing in my ears too and I felt really dizzy like everything was spinning. When I woke up again I found myself in an ambulance. They commented how I was "a big girl" which really offended me. I was thinking "Here I'm dying and you're going to comment on my weight?!" I still kept slipping in and out of concsiousness. My husband and my in-laws were driving behind the ambulance and ran through red lights. The next thing I knew I was in the hospital and my clothes had been torn off. I had heard them cutting through my clothes but at the same time I wasn't really awake while they were doing it either. When I woke up I started calling for my husband. They let him in and some friends too. He was crying and he said my mom (who lived in another state) was on her way. I had puke in my hair and dried on my hands. One of my friends helped clean off the puke on my hand. Friends from church had come to check on me too. I couldn't believe how many people came to see if I was okay. I didn't get to see most of them because only a certain amount of people could be in the room and my husband (and when my mom got there) didn't want to leave the room. I was transferred to another room and they stuck two iv's in me. It was a rough night. My husband stayed with me overnight while there was someone watching me as I slept too. I told my husband I was sorry for what I did. The next day my husband and I hadn't slept well. My mom came back from a hotel and my in-laws came to pick up my husband so he could get some sleep at home and he returned later. That night he had to go back home and I didn't want him to leave me. I cried and begged for him to stay with me but he said he couldn't. Plus I was possibly being transferred to the psychiatric ward that night. If I had, he would have to stay in the hospital by himself since he didn't have a car there. After about a couple of hours I was transferred to the psychiatric ward so I called my husband and told him I wasn't upset with him for leaving and that it was a good thing that he did. While I was there, I had a revelation. People really do care about me and don't want to see me leave. If people care about me that much, how much more must God care about me? There's a reason I was still there and when I told my mom how many pills I took, she looked it up and said they really could've killed me. This was the second time I had escaped death (the first suicide attempt was after graduating high school in 2009). Suddenly I no longer wanted to just exist, I wanted to live. I was in the psychiatric ward for two or three days and was released. I was doing really well, I was even humming worship songs at times. My husband told me he was really upset with me, until he saw me. Suddenly the negative feelings he was feeling towards me slipped away. I even made things up with one of my best friends I had lost and we are great friends to this day again!
It was a really rough year last year, and hopefully after moving to a different area will help me forget about the negativity that happened, but at the same time I hope I don't completely forget so I will have learned my lesson. I've tried to take my life three times (twice last year) and every time my plan was thwarted. There is a reason I'm still here, and I don't know what that reason is. Perhaps some day I'll find out. But I'm going to try to not make my time to leave this earth earlier than God has planned for me. Some day I will leave, but it's not my call as to when I leave. I have to trust God with that.