My name is Dawn. In December of 1993, I attempted to take my own life. It was quite stupid. I was in a relationship with someone who was cheating on me and I had just caught him again for the hundredth time. Stupid is what I was. Felt my happiness hinged on whether I was in a relationship. Told him I was going to kill myself. That I wasn't strong enough to get out of this destructive relationship. That the only way was to remove myself from this world. I believe what I was hopping for was him to say, "No, I love you...don't do it." Instead he said, "Great! Are you going to do it now? Can I watch?" I said sure. I drove to the local 7-11 and he bought me two bottles of tylenol (they were on sale) and a six pack of beer. At a local handball court he egged me on..."Well...do it already!" I didn't want to die. I don't know why I took the pills but the one I thought I loved sat and watched while I did. After I had taken most of the first bottle he said he would take me to the hospital. I told him no and that i felt fine. Which I did. We tried to patch things up and I went home. I had some misconception that when you took pills and then alcohol, that you would just fade off to sleep and that would be all. This was not the case. My heart started racing and it was all I could do you eat my hamburger that my parents had made for dinner. I tried to close my eyes and go to sleep but I couldn't. I got really scared. I told my mom and dad that I was going to my friends house and I drove myself to the hospital. I almost died in there. I remember hearing the doctor say, "Your daughter is in the hospital. Please come quick. We don't think she's going to make it." Well I did make it. I wanted to make it. I made sure everyone in the hospital KNEW I wanted to make it. "Don't you dare let me die, Doctor. If you let me die, I will come back from death and haunt you for the rest of your life."

I spent 7 days in ICU, where I was given treatment to prevent any liver damage (of course I had taken the worse thing--tylenol--which affects your liver. Throughout this time a psychiatrist came to see me. What a terrible man. Told me that I was not allowed to see my boyfriend, that I would be committed if I did, he wanted to know if I heard voices, if schizophrenia ran in my family and if these voices told me to kill myself. Afterwards he went and told my parents everything I said. When I was released, I did not see the shrink again. I went to someone else which is where I was diagnosed with Bi-Polar disorder and put on Prozac.

My psychiatrist counseled me for three months and concluded that I would be fine and that all I needed was a healthy relationship. No drugs. No aftercare. It is now five years later. But the feelings are still there. I never hit stages of severe depression or severe mania, however, they are beyond typical mood swings. Everything is good for a day, a week, a month, and then I'm depressed, not knowing how my life is ever going to change. I know I need to go back to counseling. I know this is not how life is supposed to be. I know that my happiness shouldn't depend on others but I'm not motivated. I feel like I can muddle through. And after all, isn't that what life is? Muddling through?

Anon

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