So, I have abandoned Vox in favor of Twitter. I didn't mean to, but the small character limit just fits me. I came back to Vox today because for the first time in a long time I have something I feel like I need to get out that will take more than a couple of sentences.
I have been in a funk all year. Mostly from the fibromyalgia, hypothyroid and chronic backpain. I have had severe fatigue which makes even the smallest problems seem insurmoutnable. This last month I have been especially horribly depressed. Aside from a handful of trips to the grocery store I have only left my house to go to the doctor.I can't and don't really want to do anything else. I can't really fingerpoint any specific reason for this turn for the worse, but I stumbled upon a ripped up scrap of paper in my bedroom and that is was brought out this entry.
When I was 19 I was going through a similar bout of not leaving the house. It had even turned into slight agoraphobia at a certain point. I was going to see a very apathetic psychiatrist at the time whose name I can't even remember. She never really talked to me during sessions other than to ask if I was feeling better. I would say no and she would just give me more medication or change the meds I was on and ask to see me again in two weeks. One other thing she did tell me was to start journaling when I had nobody to talk to. I took this advice and started journaling compulsively. I was rarely seen without a book and pen in my hand. One day when i was in a really bad spell I decided that the journaling was a bullshit waste of time and I ripped all the books to pieces. There was about 20 of them and they were torn to bits and thrown away. All except for one small bit of paper that I ripped out of the book and then decided I should keep. I don't remember why I decided to keep it, but that's what I stumbled on today.
It was the top third of a page with the date intact. 26 October 1999 almost exactly 10 years ago to the day. No other words on that side of the page, but I had taped on the emergency room bracelet I had worn the day before. the other side says "I will never forget the hellish way it felt to get my stomach pumped. It was awful, I..." and the rest was lost to the rubbish bin
That's when I had my stomach pumped after swallowing hundreds of pills. pink, yellow, white and more. A rainbow! I actually remember the doctor asking me as the contents of my stomach were coming out, " was yellow the only color of pill you took? oh wait there's pink!" I had a plastic piece in my mouth so I couldn't bite down and the tube down my throat so how he expected me to answer, I don't know.
Even though I can remember the entire ordreal perfectly there are a few things that really stand out in my mind. Firstly, having my wrists tied down to the side of the bed and thinking it was just like in the movies and then instantly feeling trapped when they made sure they were tight and secure. the second thing I remember was machine's alarm going off and being told I had to calm down. I was crying so my nose was running and my throat was filled with a big tube so I couldn't breathe. Of course I wasn't calm! Suddenly though one of the men in the group of interns who had been brought round to stare at me, jumped behind me on the other side of the bed and started to rub my tummy. Such a simple and silly thing, but it worked. I was able to focus on his warm hand rubbing my tummy and the machines shut up and I could hear him telling me it was almost over and I would be just fine. I also remember bullshitting the psych doctor that came down to decide if i had to stay in her ward for a few days. It was very easy to lie and get out of it.
Sometimes it feels like 10 years have passed and other times it feels like it just happened last week. I remember hoping that in the future I would laugh and think how lucky I was not to have died. 10 years on and I can't honestly say that yet. Maybe in another ten years I will be able to.