I tried to die again.
Today is my 9th day here in the hospital, and hopefully, it will be my last day here. Technically, I’m still not yet allowed to use gadgets. But, since I need internet for my therapy, here I am. Just don’t tell my doctor I posted this while I was confined.
I’m tired of being confined in a single room for more than a week. I’ve only been out of my hospital room for around 3 times only: twice for occupational therapy, and once for a weigh-in. I didn’t even go to mass last Sunday and yesterday, the Feast of the Immaculate Conception. It’s not that I don’t want to go out (well, I was not in the mood to go to mass), but I felt like I was constrained. Well, at least for the first few days of my stay.
Why am I here anyway? Here’s why and how:
It was the evening of the 1st of December. I think it was at around 9:30pm when my friend and ex-boyfriend Kelvin sent my mom a message telling her that I told Kelvin that I wanted to die.
My mom rushed to my brother’s room, the room I stayed in, because my aunt was in my room. She asked me what was going on, and she hugged me tight. She went to get my Xanor and a glass of water, taking with her the blade cutter I had beside me. I drank the Xanor, and I calmed down, but I knew that it wasn’t enough. My mom asked me if I wanted to go to the hospital, and I said yes.
My mom and I, with a little help from my aunt, immediately packed my stuff, and we went to the hospital as soon as I was able to book an Uber. When we got to the emergency room, the triage nurse asked for our concern. My mom whispered that I was feeling depressed, that I was suicidal. And so the triage nurse endorsed me to the psychiatrist in the emergency room.
The psychiatrist in the ER interviewed me, asking me what happened. I told her that I wanted to hurt myself, let alone die, because of the same thing that made me attempt to kill myself a few weeks before that night. I told her that the lack of attention that I get from my friends made me feel like I am not loved, that I am not important, that I am not worth my friends’ time. I felt so alone, and I don’t like being alone.
I wanted to get admitted to the psychiatry ward, but there was no space for me. So I was taken to a regular hospital room on the morning of the 2nd of December, but it was also as if I was in the psych ward: no gadgets, no sharp objects. Good thing I was allowed to watch TV and that I had to have a watcher, since I wasn’t allowed to have visitors then.
I saw my psychiatrist everyday, and she would counsel me everyday. She even led me to a website that would aid me in dealing with depression. This website features Mindfulness-Based Cognitive Therapy, a new approach my doctor is trying on me. I hope I visit the website and do the exercises religiously, for I believe that this therapy would really be beneficial for me. So far, I’ve learned so much from the raisin exercise I had that is part of the therapy. I even had a 2-page typewritten reflection on it. You can search about it (raisin exercise), and you can even ask me for my reflection if you want to!
I also saw several doctors regarding my physical health, since I have hypertension, diabetes, and so much excess weight. It was kind of hard for me to digest everything in the first days, but through His Grace, I was able to accept everything. I was able to control my diet and food urges (imagine, no sweets for 9 days except for fruits). It was really difficult, but I managed to do it. Now that I am more mindful of my health, I want to continue these practices until I get discharged.
Now, in the two times I went to the psych ward for occupational therapy (OT) were good times, since I was finally able to interact with other people: psychology students in their on-the-job-training program, and other patients (whom I will not name). I was able to help decorate the psych ward with DIY Christmas decor, and I was also able to make sugar cookies. I enjoyed these activities, but this is what made me stay in the ward beyond OT time: the wonderful people like me (AKA patients). I was not able to really get to know them, but we shared stories, and we had good laughs. I really wanted to stay longer in the ward, but then I needed to go up to my room. Oh well, at least I was able to meet them and understand different cases.
This week in the hospital taught me a lot, and it truly made me realize many things. Now that I’m level headed, I can’t blame my friends for not minding me, for their academic lives kill them everyday. But you know, knowing that your friends have seen your messages and give no reply hurts like hell. It’s as if they kill me every time they “seenzone” me. I love to talk, and I hate it when no one wants to listen. I love to listen, but I hate it if they don’t let me make them listen. Am I making sense? But you know, I realized that they’re really just busy. It’s not that they don’t care, but they just need to focus on their selves. They, too, have problems and issues.
And you know, I should not only understand them, but I should also understand myself and be kind to myself for feeling the feelings I felt. This is something my doctor would usually remind me of, since it’s really hard to unlearn being harsh to oneself. I often forget that I should be my own best friend. I keep on looking for other people, but I got myself. Well, of course I need friends, but I have to understand myself, too.
Another not-so-good thing is that I keep on forgetting the people who are always here with me: my family. I know that my family loves me, and I do really love them. But I don’t know why I can’t seem to forget my past self’s priority: friends > family. I used to hate being at home when I was in high school, but everything changed after my suicide attempt in high school. And you know, my world was objectively better, since I loved my family more. I love them so much, and I don’t want to hurt them as much as I can.
I just realized that there are many people who love me, who care for me. I have a purpose in their lives, and they have a purpose in mine. I believe their purpose is to make me feel special and important to them and, most especially, TO MYSELF.
You know, everything and everyone has a purpose. This suicide attempt has a purpose, which I believe is to make me realize that I am important to so many people, especially to my family. This depression has a purpose, which is to help me appreciate myself and love myself more. I have a purpose. I may not know until now what my purpose in this world is, but I know that I am loved, and I love, because I am made out of love.
LOVE. Love is always present, even if everyone seems to be absent. That is what I want to remember forever. I don’t want to take my life anymore, and I’m happy that I’ve been feeling this was two days after I was brought here. I am really glad that I have somehow recovered from this episode. I am feeling extremely great right now, for I know that many people have my back, and that they are here to stay even if some already left.
Now, I’m ready to be discharged. I no longer feel confined, just in a single room. I am excited to head back home and see my loved ones. I am excited to share my story of victory. I AM SO EXCITED FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE!
I love me and everyone in my life, and I thank God for the past two months of struggle. Indeed, He works in mysterious ways.