Well. What have I got to say for myself. I wish I could say nothing. I wish I could say I had a great weekend and everything was hunky-dory.
I can’t give anyone a reason why I did it although a few people have asked me. The big WHY. Why does anyone do something like this? I don’t know. Why do I put myself through something like this? I don’t know. I don’t know.
I took a fairly massive overdose on Saturday. Spent 3 days in Intensive Care, at least 36 hours on life support. All I remember is waking up in Intensive Care and C was there. People telling me to keep breathing, listening to the ventilator do the job for me and thinking – if I held my breath, would I fade away? People telling me to keep breathing, yelling at me to tell me where I was, as if I was deaf when all I was doing was ignoring them. I didn’t want to keep breathing. I was in a state of peace – the kind of peace I seek so desperately when I am living. Close my eyes and fade away. If only it was that easy.
While I was on the ventilator, I couldn’t speak because of the tube down my throat. The first thing I wrote when I was given a pen and paper was “I’m sorry”. But I don’t think C bought it. I don’t think I bought it either.
When I was finally discharged the hard questions came. Why. C wanted to know. D wanted to know. And I couldn’t answer them. I was fine the day before. Just the day before, everyone told me I sounded upbeat, positive, as if the long weekend was not a problem at all. I was going to go swimming, running. I was going to rent movies. Yes. I had such great plans. Plans that toppled over with one single act. Did I even see it coming? No. No. I didn’t see it coming. It was a wilful act on my part, yes, but I didn’t see it coming. Honest.
D called me last night. He sounded so disappointed in me, his voice was all flat and empty. Why? I don’t think I’ve ever heard him this way before. I felt so bad. I wanted to tell him it wouldn’t happen again. I wanted to tell him I’m sorry. More than anything else I wanted to reassure him that I wouldn’t do such a thing again. But those words echoed in my mind and I couldn’t say it because I no longer trust myself either. There was a point in time when I said those things, perhaps even meant it, but I broke those promises over and over and over again. I can’t bring myself to say it anymore. Even if I did, he would have said to me “You said that the last time”.
I went in to see V yesterday for an extra session, just to talk things through. It felt good. But I still couldn’t give a reason. Why. What led up to it. What was my trigger point. We talked about how this has affected me. How it hasn’t really changed anything except that it had given me that brief but wonderful feeling of peace as my heart battled to keep me alive. Was it worth it? Is one moment of peace worth all the heartache that would come later and was it worth the risk? If you’ve led a life of emptiness and numbness and all you ever craved was one moment of peace – would you think it was worth it?
I’m not a gambling woman, but playing my cards, I was the only one who knew I had an ace. Do I think it was worth it? Was it worth the risk when losing only meant a permanent kind of peace?