It’s been awhile since I have posted, but I feel like today is a good day to do so.
On 26 September 2017, I got to meet my favorite band and took pictures with them (may post them...idk). It was such an amazing day. Definitely the polar opposite of the day before.
I was in the hospital the day before.
I had invited a friend to stay at my place for this concert, as we had planned to go together. She completely ignored me for her ‘boyfriend’ the entire week, and on that Monday, I heard voices telling me to drink the NyQuil and go drink the vodka in the garage after that. My former friend and I were home alone that day. I couldn’t control myself, so I did as the voices said. I drank half the bottle of NyQuil and took about 6 ounces of vodka right after that. I had passed out and was not breathing for several minutes. I’m lucky that my mother knew something wasn’t right and was there when I passed out. My parents decided that my former friend needed to go home, because this was a serious matter and she didn’t do anything to stop me. She saw that I had vodka. She saw me take the cold medicine.
She did nothing.
At the hospital, I cried for nearly 8 hours straight. I hated myself. I ran from my parents when they tried to hug me, because I didn’t deserve any sort of affection after this. I laid in a cold, dark room with the sound of monitors beeping all around me. Around 7 nurses came in to talk to me about everything, and a security guard came in to preform a breathalyzer test. It showed I had no alcohol in my system at that point. At 8 o’clock, the social worker came in. She was a bright, smiley person who was super sweet and was very affectionate. She was a mother-like figure to me. She asked me about what happened, so I told her everything in full detail. I told her that the concert the next day was the only thing left I had to live for. I told her about the art I did for them. I told her about how they helped me after my cousin got killed. When her meeting with me was over, she gave me a hug and went to talk to my parents.
Nearly two hours later, the social worker came back in. She was smiling brightly again. That’s when she told me the good news.
“You are going to go home tonight and you are going to that concert tomorrow. This will be a step in the right direction, I know it.”
I cried with happy tears at that point. I couldn’t believe I was still going to be able to see them. I got up from my bed and hugged her tightly and thanked her so much. My dad and I walked out of the hospital at about 11 p.m. and headed home. I didn’t speak all the way home, and tears were sitting in my eyes constantly. When we got home my mom was there to greet me. She wrapped her arms around me and I lost it. She just told me how worried she was and that I needed to tell her everything if I got sad or depressed or suicidal, because I had a tendency to hide it all. I had gotten very good at hiding things. I pretty much wore a plaster smile every single day. I found ways to cover all of the scabs on my arms and hips and nobody could even tell. I went to bed very soon after I got home, because I was so extremely tired.
The next day, I woke up refreshed and quite a bit better. I immediately started getting ready for this concert; doing my hair all fancy and my makeup all snazzy. On my way there, my dad (who was driving) talked to me about all of the stuff he had dealt with in high school. He struggled with alcoholism and didn’t break that habit until he met my mom. He said he regrets every single sip of alcohol he took. I understood.
(Pics of the concert will be added to this post eventually)
Fast forward to about 3 days ago. I was relaxing in the car as my mom went into Walmart to get some stuff and my phone buzzed. It was an email from my former friend. She hadn’t spoken to me since the suicide attempt.
Her email was drenched in hate.
She told me how pitiful I am, how worthless I am, how selfish I am, that I am self centered and had no self control, and that I’m a terrible person. She whined that I didn’t ask how she was ever...but I did every single day we spoke. I didn’t care about my feelings when I spoke to her. She also whined that I never stayed up late with her and talked...she told me she was going to bed at 10 o’clock, but was up until 2. She told me she was going to sleep...
Lies.
Pure lies.
All of it to dig me a hole. A hole to sit in alone.
Cutting her out of my life has brought me peace. She didn’t know what she was doing with her life and that stressed me out too. Since the day I said goodbye to her, I haven’t cut, I haven’t tried to commit suicide, and I haven’t had to deal with any unnecessary stress. I transferred schools last Wednesday and that’s already hundreds of times better than my old one. I’ve met a few amazing people both online and at my new school, and they have been so helpful to me these days.
I’m thinking that I’m finally getting better...
Step by step, I am healing.
Making progress on my fear of food and eating 
Feeling a little Better but its still a work in progress
Long overdue update about the progress I’ve made regarding my anxiety and depression problems 
Gay Ex-Husband Has Me Depressed
Perhaps, they didn’t know?
