broomcloset ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Flashback It has reached the Universal Temperature of Cold(tm) outside today: -40 degrees. Celsius or Farenheit, you as? BOTH! Hence the title of "universal". It's cold. Sure, maybe it's only -40 with the windchill, but it's still -40. Ugh. And I have errands to do outside the house today. I think I'll crochet myself a hat before I go outside. ______ Just before drifting off to sleep a few nights ago (when it did happen) a memory popped into my head. I'm not sure why. Maybe it was the strong desire to sleep. When I was in high school, grade 11 I think, I took an overdose of my anti-depressants. Twice. I wasn't actually trying to kill myself. This was no "cry for help." In fact, I hid the fact that I did it so well the first time, that no one noticed. I think that's why I did it a second time. The first time I took the rest of my prescription all at once was after a lunch-time counseling session with my counselor at the time, JH. He was a nice, well-intentioned man, intelligent and interesting to talk to. He was also an Anglican minister. JH figured that I was too connected to my mother and it was time for me to rebel. All teenagers have to rebel against their parents to become healthy, well adjusted adults, right? Try again, Sparky. Just because you read it in a book doesn't mean it's right. JH misinterpretted the almost "psychic" connection I have with my mother for a lack of individuation from her. So he decided that in order to cause a little rebellion in me, I should display some of my anger. Anger from where? I don't know. But he decided to make me mad. And he did. He was successful in that. And I think he was probably quite satisfied with himself. He probably thought I'd go home and have a row with my parents and I'd be on a good start to rebellion. That's not what happened. I was mad alright. Mad at the world and mad at myself. Ever hear the hypothosis that "Depression is anger turned inward?" So how did I express my anger and hurt? I drove home, took all of my pills, and drove back to school. Why? Why do something self distructive when I was mad? Because that's what depression does. It turns you against yourself. And what better way to hurt yourself without seeing blood than to poison yourself? So I went back to school. No one had a clue. In computer class I started getting all cold and shaky. I put my head down on my desk in front of my keyboard and stared at the floor. I couldn't believe how cold I was, especially my face. Then I started getting sleepy - so sleepy that I couldn't keep my eyes open. I had a friend of mine drive me home in my parents' car that I'd driven to school, then he called his father from my place to tell him to pick him up there. He covered me with an afghan as I lay on the couch - I was pretty much out of it by then. I didn't hear him leave. When my parents got home I told them I'd started feeling bad at school and my friend had driven me home. I went from the couch to my bed and slept the rest of the night. And that was that. The second time it happened I was feeling lower than I had in awhile. I knew that taking all of my pills would make me sleep for a long time. So I came home from school, took all my pills and went to bed. When my parents came home from work, they came to see me in my room. I told them I was very tired and just wanted to sleep. It was a Friday evening, so they let me sleep. A few hours later they woke me up to say that they'd bought pizza, a typical Friday night treat. My mom wanted me to get up and have at least one slice just so I'd have eaten something. I got up and dragged myself to the kitchen. The medication was still in full swing, so I had trouble keeping my eyes open. My mom obviously observed this, so after I'd crawled back to bed she mentioned this to my dad. They decided to call JH. JH confirmed that my extreme tiredness was concerning, and that they should check my pill bottle as my medication could cause sleepiness. They checked. It was empty. They came into my room and woke me up, asking me if I had taken all of my pills. I denied it, they showed me the pill bottle. Dad hauled me out of bed and we all went to the hospital. On the way I started to wake up. By the time I got there I was pretty coherent. I remember them hooking me up to machines to monitor my heart. They didn't pump my stomach because they figured the medication had mostly gone through my system and doing so would be pointless at that point. Then we had to wait for and talk to the psychiatrist on duty. I said I wasn't trying to commit suicide, which was the truth. I didn't pay much attention to the rest of it. I just saw how upset the whole event made my parents and how my parents (especially my mom) was treated by the psychiatrist and other doctors. They mental health profession can really treat mothers like crap, you know. So I never took all my pills again. Not because I almost died (I didn't), but because I saw how my parents were treated. They were more important to me than I was at that time. ______ I'm not sure why I wrote all of that. But I think I'm glad I did.
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