TW Suicide, Overdose, Self Harm

At some point on Sunday night, somebody (can’t remember now if it was a paramedic, doctor or nurse) asked me if I made a habit of ‘doing this’ (taking an overdose). I said I didn’t. We established it was my first time. I guess as someone who has quite a lengthy psychiatric history, the look of surprise was justified. Why it should make any difference, I fail to see, surely anyone in such a desperate situation deserves the same compassion, but I seemed to have passed the ‘frequent flyer’ test and was regarded with suitable kindness.
When I had lined up Phases 1, 2 and 3 of my planned overdose, I had intended to complete the job, end my life. However when I finally built up the nerve to down Phase 1 (14 Chlorpromazine tablets and a can of Murphys) I realised if I could just sleep through this unbearable phase, that would be good enough. I still planned to move onto Phase 2 if sleep wasn’t forthcoming. However the Out of Hours nurse, who I had left a message for, happened to ring back just then. She talked a lot, didn’t let me say much. In the end, I just blurted out, “I’ve taken too many tablets!” She actually stopped talking at me, and began talking to me. She said she would need to contact the duty doctor to see if I needed to go to A&E. She said she would ring back in five minutes and let me know the outcome.
In my mind I had decided to move onto Phase 2 if it took any longer than that. I just wanted the pain to end.
But then the phone was ringing……sending an ambulance…….
I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I was awake but my eyelids were so heavy. I spoke to the paramedic with my eyes tightly closed. I remember them pricking my finger to test my blood sugars, and I remember them saying my blood pressure was very low. They argued about whether I could walk to the ambulance or whether I needed a wheelchair, in the end I walked and had to open my eyes.
I recall lots of different people asked me during the course of the night, what had been the trigger to taking an overdose. I replied to them all that I didn’t know, I couldn’t think of anything, my mood had just plummeted.
I was put on a drip, I think to get my BP back up, and was left, freezing cold, to myself, half asleep, half awake, in a miserable no mans land.
The MH liaison nurse arrived, who I had spoken to on the Out of Hours line earlier. She seemed kinder in real life. She asked how I was feeling. I was just tired, I said, I wanted to go home to bed.
She asked if I could keep myself safe if I went home. I replied, genuinely, “I think I have learnt my lesson.” I already felt like a complete idiot for what I had done. And I felt ashamed.
I can’t even begin to process the events of the last days. It makes no sense at all. I feel utterly detached from it. I haven’t spoken to any family or ‘in real life’ friends about it. I just want to forget it ever happened. Yet I feel as though I have crossed an invisible line. I have been to a place I had never visited before, and never want to go to again, and yet, I know, having crossed that invisible line, it will be so much harder next time I feel so awful, not to go there again.

Thank you for reading.
Angel x