I was back in the hospital for a few days and got home Monday. For some reason, the idea of writing about it made me uneasy. It still does. But I am doing it anyways, because I can’t let all of it fester inside of me.
I lost my shit and went for a walk in the rain, taking a few pain pills while I was at it. When I got home, (because I decided that I didn’t want to follow through) everyone was waiting for me. My mother called the ambulance. I begged her not to, but eventually I gave up and just went without a fight.
They made me drink charcoal and I vomited profusely in the trash can.
I am ashamed of all of the hurt that I have caused my family and close friends. That is what stayed with me the 4 days I was in there, the heavy guilt of my actions. The sound of my daughters tears and the look of fear in my husbands eyes. I cannot continue to do this to my mother.
I cannot continue to do this to myself. It’s going to be okay because it has to be.