Story of my last overdose..... TRIGGERING

Misha entered work and sat at her desk, she felt nothing, but the noise and light she could hear and see were immense. She needed it to stop, she couldn't cope. There was chatter going on and she couldn't distinguish whether it was inside of her head or happening round the office.

“Misha, could you try and book 6 appointments before lunch,” her manager said handing her a bunch of his clients to call, she nodded confusedly, how was she meant phone anyone with all the noise going on.

Up until her lunch, Misha stared at the screen, all she could think was that she needed this to stop and she could only think of one way which would ensure that it did. Death.

She stood up, picked up her bag and left the office.

She lit up a cigarette leant against an outside wall, contemplating her options. Various people said hello to her, she didn't even notice them. She took a mirror out of her back and looked into it. She didn't recognise her eyes.

Snapping the mirror shut, she began walking purposely into chemist. Picking up razors and a bottle of water, she put them through the self service till and shoved them In her bag. Then she went to the pharmacy counter and bought 2 packets of migraine tablets. Leaving the chemist she walked quickly to the nearest supermarket, where she bought a bottle of coke, and a bottle of vodka.

The bus ride back to her house was spent staring blankly out of the window, she felt nothing at all, not one reason not to do this came into her head. So she let herself into her room and locked the door behind her.

She had a quick conversation with herself.

“I'll attempt suicide, have a break.”

“No there is no point in ATTEMPTING, nothing will change, you have to do it.”

“But I don't know if I can.”

“you have to, there is no other way.”

“you're right.”

“We're right.”

“I know, sorry.”

She sat on her bed and opened the vodka, tipping it into the bottle of coke she drank as much as she could in one go. She then opened the tablets and took ten of them in one go.

Then she opened the razors.

She'd cut herself lots of times before, but never to kill herself, never her actual wrists.

She needed more vodka. So she drank more and took more tablets.

Within an hour she had taken thirty. She took out her phone and sent a text message to her Community Psychiatric Nurse. Basically telling her exactly what she was doing. She knew that by sending that text, she wasn't fully committing herself to death. She wanted to die, but maybe what she wanted more, was someone to stop her.

A few moments later, she took the razor and she cut through her wrist, twice, it started bleeding, and suddenly everything came back into focus, she gasped, she hadn't researched it at all, she may not have long. She took her phone and dialled 999.

3 hours later

After being forced to drink coal and being patronised by numerous medical professionals, Misha was feeling annoyed and bitter and panicky.

A nurse was going to take a blood sample and Misha really didn't want her to do that.
2 nurses came into the room and were fussing around her bed, She was feeling sleepy and drowsy and began to cry, They started to hug her, tying a band round her arm to get her veins to show more, she struggled out of it and began feeling claustrophobic, she became hysterical and told them to leave her and she would do it later, she needed to calm down, after a few minutes they agreed to leave her to calm down. As soon as they were out of the room she picked up her bag and her phone and her top and ran into the toilets, she changed back into her own jumper, struggling to breathe and unable to stop crying she realised she was having some sort of panic or anxiety attack. She had to get home. Her skin was crawling and itching, she was no longer suicidal, but there wasn't any rational thought left in her head, she just needed to be away from any people whatsoever. She felt terrified and alone.

She left the toilet and walked around the hospital avoiding eye contact with anyone, before she found her way outside. The cold air hit her and she began to cry uncontrollably. She had no idea where she was in relation to her house.

She got her phone out and looked through her phone book, she dialled her best friend Robert's number, he answered but she hung up.

A bus pulled up and she got on it, luckily it went sort of near to her house. Getting off the bus she practically ran home.

She text Robert explaining what had happened, he replied that he would be with her in an hour.

Letting herself into the kitchen, she notice Miles was sat at the table drinking tea. He was her housemate and friend but they had only known each other a month, although he already knew she was diagnosed with Borderline Personality disorder.

She went straight into the conservatory and lit a cigarette, he came through and took one out of her packet. “Why have you been crying?” he asked.

“Its a really long story,” she replied.

“Well we have all night, do you still have a job?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, “hopefully.”

She explained she'd walked out of work and almost been sectioned.

He look at her, she realised he didn't seem shocked or scared, not the usual reaction when she was behaving like this.

There was a knock at the door.

“Is this for you,” he asked.

She shrugged, looking terrified.

“Dont worry,” he said.

A moment later 2 police officers walked into the kitchen, followed by Dan, another one of Misha's housemates, they kindly asked him to leave and he did.

“Misha,” the policeman said nicely, “we need to take you back to hospital, your wrists haven't been dressed properly and you've taken an overdose, you could be very ill.”
“I'm not going back until my friend gets here,” she said standing behind the kitchen table defensively.

“When is that?” he asked.

“In an hour and half, he is coming from Norfolk.”
“Ok, well, we're not sure if we can leave you here, you may be at risk of harming yourself again and the drugs you've taken may be affecting you already.”

“I feel fine!” she said, “i'm totally fine, I'm not going until he gets here,” with that she sat down.

One police officer left the room to speak to Miles.

Misha could still hear him.

“Basically, she's cut her wrists open and the wound hasnt been dressed, she's overdosed, she seems fine but at any moment she could collapse, we need to make sure its not in her bloodstream, if we cant get her to agree to come with us, we'll have to take her.”

Miles walked into the kitchen, “Misha, I'm going to take you.”

“No, I don't want to go.”

“Misha, come on, we can wait for Robert there, it'll be fine, i'll stay with you.”

“Misha,” the police man said, “we can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

Misha got up, got her coat and followed Miles out of the house and into his car, “i am so sorry,” she said sincerely.

He drove her to hospital and they waited for Robert to get there, he bought her coke and chocolate. When Robert arrived, they all sat together awkwardly until it was time to go home, they sat in the kitchen drinking tea and then went to bed.