So yeah, I feel really stupid now.
Dec. 16th, 2006 06:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
azdesertroseYesterday afternoon, I took an overdose of sleeping pills.
I was just so upset over everything; the car, the holidays, the month of December, family drama. I just wanted it all to stop.
I did, however, call my boyfriend at work and tell him what I'd done. He called 911 (because I wouldn't, and I wouldn't go make myself throw up the pills), and I took a ride in an ambulance. My arms are still bruised from the paramedic trying to start an IV line in me. I'm usually not so hard to do, but for some reason yesterday I was not easy to stick.
I probably should still be in the hospital; I was Baker Acted, which technically means I should have been kept for 72 hours to determine how much of a danger I am to myself, but Cliff and I managed to talk the staff psychiatrist into letting me come home today. I really hate being in the hospital.
Now I have to tell my counselor and my nurse practitioner what I did. Joy.
I feel like an idiot.
BTW, diphenhydramine (aka Simply Sleep and/or Benadryl) makes you sleepy in small doses. When you take forty-some-odd of the things, it winds you up. I was tachycardic, hypertensive, and raving most of the night in the ER; they took me to a room once I'd stabilized a bit. Apparently it doesn't screw much up, though. I still feel a little dizzy and disoriented, and my speech is still a little stammery, but I'm otherwise okay.
I know I said a lot of things that didn't make any sense to anyone, even to me.
But then, I sometimes do things that don't make sense, even to me.
The family drama (which was probably the main catalyst to the overdose) is that my parents want to talk to me about something, but not in my daughter's presence, and they both want to talk to me. From past experience, this does not bode good news. I'm paranoid about them wanting to take my daughter away from me entirely, because I know what a mess I am. I had a dreadful panic attack yesterday at my mom's house, and then went home and took the overdose. My family does not know what I did, and I don't intend them finding out, either.
I really do think sometimes that I will never get better; that's what makes me do things like that, the belief that I will never be well.
I was just so upset over everything; the car, the holidays, the month of December, family drama. I just wanted it all to stop.
I did, however, call my boyfriend at work and tell him what I'd done. He called 911 (because I wouldn't, and I wouldn't go make myself throw up the pills), and I took a ride in an ambulance. My arms are still bruised from the paramedic trying to start an IV line in me. I'm usually not so hard to do, but for some reason yesterday I was not easy to stick.
I probably should still be in the hospital; I was Baker Acted, which technically means I should have been kept for 72 hours to determine how much of a danger I am to myself, but Cliff and I managed to talk the staff psychiatrist into letting me come home today. I really hate being in the hospital.
Now I have to tell my counselor and my nurse practitioner what I did. Joy.
I feel like an idiot.
BTW, diphenhydramine (aka Simply Sleep and/or Benadryl) makes you sleepy in small doses. When you take forty-some-odd of the things, it winds you up. I was tachycardic, hypertensive, and raving most of the night in the ER; they took me to a room once I'd stabilized a bit. Apparently it doesn't screw much up, though. I still feel a little dizzy and disoriented, and my speech is still a little stammery, but I'm otherwise okay.
I know I said a lot of things that didn't make any sense to anyone, even to me.
But then, I sometimes do things that don't make sense, even to me.
The family drama (which was probably the main catalyst to the overdose) is that my parents want to talk to me about something, but not in my daughter's presence, and they both want to talk to me. From past experience, this does not bode good news. I'm paranoid about them wanting to take my daughter away from me entirely, because I know what a mess I am. I had a dreadful panic attack yesterday at my mom's house, and then went home and took the overdose. My family does not know what I did, and I don't intend them finding out, either.
I really do think sometimes that I will never get better; that's what makes me do things like that, the belief that I will never be well.
