My personal battle

I was diagnosed with depression when I was sixteen years old.  I actually had my cousin take me for antidepressants because my mother was one who didn't believe in mental health disorders.  She was a firm believer that if you change your attitude, your mood will follow suit.  Unfortunately, that didn't help me.  So I started antidepressants.

I took them for a few weeks and saw no improvements.  So the doctor increased the dosage.  And again.  And again.  And again.  Until it was time to switch to a different medication because this clearly isn't doing me any justice.  Repeat.  Next med.  And the next.  And the next.  Next up, he prescribed celexa.  IT WAS AWFUL!  I had an adverse reaction and became suicidal.  This was the worst feeling I had ever experienced!

I quickly contacted my doctor and tried again.  Next was zoloft.  Same story.  And there was another one.  By this time, I'm eighteen years old.  

I decided I couldn't handle this route anymore.  I decided to quit all medications for depression.  My  depression worsened and I became suicidal all over again.  I overdosed on meds trying to end my life.  I took so many pills that day.  I remember specifically going to the store and buying the medications.  I didn't do much research.  I just assumed if I took enough mixed pills, of course I'll be successful.  Right?  I bought a huge bottle of extra strength Tylenol (100 caplets), a huge bottle of Benadryl (100 tablets), a box of Midol (24 tablets), an entire box of Sudafed (I think it was 12 caplets, but maybe 24).  Followed by an entire bottle of Pepto Bismol.  I assumed I would throw up with that many pills, so the pepto was to prevent that from happening.  

I'll never forget the feeling of trying to choke down all of those pills.  I was gagging after every handful.  So I'd take a sip of the pepto.  I got every single one of those pills into my body.  

Somehow, i was found.  I still don't know how.  Did I somehow walk out?  Did someone come in and find me?  I honestly don't know.  I apparently got transferred by ambulance and don't remember any of it.  I was told that I was petting a friend of my mom's calling her my dog's name.  I don't remember.

I only remember waking up in the hospital, EKG hooked up to me.  And my doctor was this beautiful woman.  She had dark wavy hair, red lipstick, and she wore this beautiful black polka dot dress with red heels.  I was in awe of her.  And I have never ever forgotten her face.  I was too afraid to say what I had done, though she knew.  She had to have known.  You don't get Acetaminophen Poisoning with a level as high as mine from taking a few extra pills.  I clearly took a significant amount. 

My mom told her that it wasn't an attempt.  It was simply I wasn't feeling good and just took a quick nap and didn't realize all the more time had passed.  I was simply taking the pills too frequently because I wasn't feeling good and taking random quick naps.  She didn't believe her.  She asked me if it was true and was watching the body language of my mother and I.  My mom nudged me.  She looked at her arms and saw it.  Then she looked at me with a questioning glance.  I answered with "I guess." and looked down at my hands, embarrassed.  She said okay and discharged me.  I went home with no resources or help, or even a doctor's follow up.  I was ashamed of myself.

The system had failed me.  That doctor failed me.  She KNEW.  Without a doubt, she knew.

I remember my mom saying, "How embarrassing!  I hope nobody finds out about this!" 

It took me a long time to look into help again after such a discouraging series of events.

(Stick around for part 2)

 Much love, 

Melanie