The Day I Tried to End My Life
It was a Monday. May 22, 2017 to be exact. I had been thinking of this day for years, precisely ever since I was 15 years old. I always thought about suicide. It always fascinated me as topic, as I had never truly grasped the idea of why people decided to end their lives, until depression hit me.
When I turned 15, everything started to change. My mood started to change, my behavior started to change, as well as social life. Such problems may seem normal at that age, in fact, there had been multiple times where I used to try and find a solution to these problems, however, such answers are impossible to find on the internet. From age 15, I started daydreaming about suicide and as I got older, the feelings grew stronger and stronger and I knew that at some point in my life I would try to kill myself.
As I have said above, it was Monday, the 22 of May, 2017. I had just finished my final exams. My future depended on these exams as they would determine whether I would go to university in October or not, however, I did not really feel much pressure as my motivation to actually pursue my educational aspiration was non-existent. As I sat for my final English exam, there was only one thought going through my head, and that was that in a couple of hours’ time, I will be dead. I had thought this completely through. The previous day I had made a suicide letter, however I decided against the idea and threw the letter away as I thought that it would add to the trauma my family would go through. I also had a plan on how to carefully execute my idea. I was going to swallow all of my medication, precisely my anti-depressants and I would wait for the effects to kick in.
I had completely no idea what I was actually writing in my exam as obviously, I had far more important things in my mind. The three examination hours went by extremely slowly, however, they passed. When I went into my father’s car I started to notice every single detail. I started to notice the sidewalks, the corner shops, everything, as I knew that this would be the last time that I would be seeing such things with my eyes. When I arrived home, the first thing I did was rush to my room and empty all of my pills on my table, carefully lining them up and waiting for the right moment to go ahead with the plan. To be quite honest, as I sat in my room, I had no idea what I was waiting for, however, my anxiety was at an all-time high, and panic was starting to kick in. I paced around my four-cornered room for minutes, until I decided it was time to man up for once in my life. At that very second, I grabbed every single pill and swallowed.
The second I swallowed the medications I felt everything falling apart. Every single thing I had done in my life, it had become irrelevant. My school, my family, my favorite bands, everything. All irrelevant. I stared at the mirror for a solid five minutes before I had a full-blown panic attack. I realized that I did not really want to die. I just wanted the sadness and pain to go away. However, it was all too late now. The damage had been done.
I quickly rushed downstairs with tears in my eyes and a pounding heart-beat where I found my mother on the sofa, watching a series. She immediately noticed something was off. She looked in my eyes and begged for me to tell her what was going on. “Please take me to the hospital, I took all of my medication.” That sentence changed everyone’s life. Shock, fear and hope. All of those three emotions evoked by one sentence.
My father rushed downstairs, with a look I will never forget on his face. As I sat in the backseat, my father called an ambulance and gave them all of my details, informing them of the medications I had overdosed on. I felt completely destroyed. I did not feel sad however. I felt disappointed in myself as I could not even kill myself properly without messing it up.
When we arrived at the hospital I went into a room where my vitals where taken, that are my heart rate, blood pressure and so on. The primary doctor asked why I had overdosed, and I answered that it was an impulsive act based on my depressive episode I was in. After a couple of minutes the nurse came with a bottle of activated charcoal. Yes, the taste is as bad as it sounds. It was completely horrible. The texture, the color and the taste. As I downed it, two further nurses came by and asked more questions, this time more detailed.