The Worst Day of My Life
The Worst Day of My Life
The day I was born, my mother dreamed of all the things I could one day be; a docter, a lawyer, a CEO, or anything my heart desired. I am positive that â€˜deadâ€™ was not on her ambitious list. The worse day of my life, by far, was the day I tried to kill myself.
I had an illness called depression. Some people call it the blues and some call it a black dog following you at all times; to me, it was simply: hell. My days were gray and my nights were full of pain, the type of pain which is self inflicted, to counteract everything else in my life.
On the night of January 24, 2005 I crossed the thin line between self-medication, and suicidal attempts. After abusing myself for three and a half years I was finally fed up with the way I felt. I was going to take a stand, once and for all. I was going to end my life. I was in a trance-like state called disassociation. It was like a sheer curtain fell down in front of me and none of my senses or actions could reach beyond it. I was paralyze and something else, was acting in my place. I call that something else my Monster. The scariest feeling I have ever known was when my Monster took over and I was no longer in control of my body. My Monster did what I had been longing to do for months but what fear kept me from, suicide.
By the time my mother came home that night I was in pretty horrible shape. I was out of my disassociation and I could faintly remember the events of the night. The one thing I did know for sure was that I needed help, and fast. I was rushed to the emergence room and was made to drink charcoal, they also gave me a handful of stitches. The majority of the hospital staff I came in contact with were harsh and rude to me, because I was a waste of their time, I did not want to be helped so why should they care?
The rest of that dreadful night is a foggy haze. I was watched by two policemen for a few hours until it was determined that I would be alright, then I was transferred to the Adolescent Psych Unit. I came to the end of a long hall way with my mother and the doctor. My mother left me there as the doctor pressed a button which alerted a nurse inside to open the huge steel doors which led to a long, sterile hallway with doors every few feet on either side and a nurses station in the middle.
The doctor and the night nurse talked for a few minutes in hushed whispers, then they motioned for me to join them. They asked me the same questions they asked every person admitted to the floor, then the night nurse asked for me to follow her into the â€˜examination roomâ€™. In the room I was made to take off every article of clothing I had including jewelry and put on a hospital gown. The nurse was about to begin the examination when I passed out, slamming my head on the floor.
That was the worst day of my life, and the first day of the worst week of my life. I will always remember that day as rock bottom. During the next month I returned to rock bottom and to the Adolescent Psych Unit again, but that time was the last. The worst day of my life is vitally linked to the best day of my life, which is today and every day to follow, because with out hitting bottom I would never know how sweet simple happiness can me. Yes, I, Brianna, am finally happy.
^ made by AtlantaWonder ^
She can\'t remember a time when she felt needed
If love was red then she was color blind
leave me be, while i rot and die, in the corner, under the blanket that you gave me when you lied and told me i ment something