It’s been eight years since the night that almost ended it all. Eight years seems like a life time ago yet I can still feel it as if it were just yesterday. The images from that night play so vividly in my head and it’s playing on repeat. It was the night that the drugs and alcohol proved to me that they may not be such a great friend after all. I had never considered myself to be a drug addict and even after I overdosed that night I still didn’t believe I had a problem. I was just a young teenager who would take anything to be able to escape her reality. However, the rest of the world disagreed with me especially my doctors and the state. Honestly anyone who was right in their mind would of thought that I was a troubled teenager with a serious addiction. Then again maybe it was just a cry for help and I was seeking out attention?
Eight years ago my best friend came over to celebrate my birthday with me which was just three days after my 16 birthday. My mind wasn’t in a good place and all I wanted to do was to be able to escape reality. We started off the night with smoking a few joints and doing some shots. I also took a mixture of pills and continued to drink but I still felt sober and felt like I hadn’t done anything. For the next hour or so I continued to drink and by the time the hour was over I had drank a whole bottle of tequila by myself. I was very used to mixing uppers with downers and back then it was one of my favorite ways to feel. However, something went wrong that night and I began to feel very hot and like I had just been set on fire. My body started to tingle and I kept feeling like I was slipping in and out of reality. Then it became very difficult to breath and it felt like an elephant was crushing my chest. Before I knew it I was in the bathroom floor throwing up and screaming out in pain begging for someone to help me. Eventually my mother heard my screams and came to the bathroom and started shouting asking what my problem was. I just kept begging her to help me and told her I thought I was dying. It got to the point where the pain was so unbearable that i didn’t care about making sure i wasn’t on my back while throwing up. I started to aspirate on my own vomit and turn purple. My mother had to dig the vomit out and clear my air way. By the time the ambulance had arrived I had a heart attack and was unresponsive. They quickly rushed me out of the house and sat in my driveway working on me for about thirty minutes or so before leaving. While in the ambulance I ended up having a second heart attack. By the time I had reached the ER my heart was only working at 5% and I was having a hard time breathing on my own. The doctor told my mother that they would have to intubate me or they were going to lose me. I remember screaming as loud as I possibly could to my mother to let her know I would hate her for the rest of my life and would never forgive her. That statement really shook her up and she took a moment to gather herself and signed her life away (in other words the hospital wouldn’t be held liable if i died). Later that night I began to wake up and tried to pull the tube out so they had to put me in a drug induced coma. Three days later the doctors had given up on me and told my mother the humane thing to do would be to say good bye and let me be at peace. The doctors said I was getting worse and the only reason I was still alive was because of the eight machines I was hooked up to.
To be continued…..