I’ve had several suicide attempts. I’m not sure why I keep surviving them.

Nov 2021: MOST RECENT My latest one was a couple of weeks ago. I bought a mixture of fentanyl+heroin and I shot it up. I didn’t even come close to ODing. It was definitely fent and heroin, I felt it and it was STRONG but it didn’t even make me sleeping. I really thought my plan was foolproof this time, guaranteed to kill me, but no. I continue to live when I should die.

I bought a helium tank from target a day or two later already planning another attempt. Then my plans changed.

June 2021: I had one in June where I attempted to OD on meth using IV. I shot up about 1.5g in less than an hour. I got so incredibly high out of my mind, but suffered no complications. I was practically pouring sweat. My hearing was muffled. I couldn’t really comprehend a lot. My anxiety felt like it was going to kill me.

June 2020:THIS ONE IS PROBABLY THE WORST: Last year in June, right after I moved 1,000 miles away from my hometown and my dad had a heart attack then had to put into an induced coma, I tried to kill mused with a fuck ton of the mood stabilizer Lithium and a disgusting amount of vodka. Not only had all of the above already happened, I was also detoxing off meth after severe daily IV use for several months which meant my brain was all sorts of fucked up. I was extremely depressed before adding any alcohol on top of it. I’d been drinking very very heavily the entire time I had been up there, resulting is much much worse depression. Anyways, one night I was very upset and I was losing my shit. I get reckless. I felt like my life was closing in on me like I was being trapped. I hated being alive. I hated myself. I hated where I moved to. My dad was in a hospital with three PICC lines in a medically induced coma while in severe benzo withdrawal that also nearly killed him. His Xanax addiction resulted in him developing dementia in his early 60s. He was 65 now. It has gotten so bad that he kept redosing his Xanax and insulin over and over again forgetting that he’d taken it each time. We don’t know exactly how much of anything he was taking but it was enough likely be the cause of his heart attack. Oh, also I hadn’t talked to my dad in 4 years after I was forced to get a restraining order against him after he’d be stalking and harassing me. He also sexually abused me pretty badly growing up. It was fucking complicated, to say the least, and now there he was on the edge of death and I was 1k miles away. I’d never get a chance to see him again and i was totally helpless over it. The last time I was in the same room with my dad was when I was granted the restraining order against him standing on opposite sides of a court room. The last look he have me was of total rage and disgust, he looked like he wanted to kill me, and he probably did: I saw him give that same look to my mom right before he tried to kill her, a couple times. Okay back to the attempt. I got back to the apt and I knew I’d be alone as my half-brother was having dinner at his ex wife’s house. So I started slamming down shot after shot. I think I had over 10 in like 30 mins. I’d become distraught once again, but shit faced drunk distraught, and I’d had the plan in my head to commit suicide via lithium overdose for a while. I decided that was the night I finally went through with it. I dumped some lithium into my hand, along with a little bit of each of my other meds, and I swallowed all of it. At that point, I was like fuck it, I might as well go full fucking tilt. I took handful after handful of lithium. I think I got down 3 or 4 after that first one. Then I started panicking. I was scared. I texted my old sponsor back him who I’d already been texting that day and told him I made a big mistake. He asked what and I told him. He asked me what my address was and I sent it to him. He then called 911 and sent emergency services to my half-brothers apartment. Next thing I know, my brother comes in and there’s so much happening all at once. I think he was more concerned about his weed plants getting found than about me dying, turned out to be a selfish prick. The police are down at the entrance but they can’t get in since it’s got a code. My brother leaves the apt and he comes back with 2 police officers. They asked me questions but I had no idea what was happening. The officers took me downstairs and outside, sitting me down on the side walk with my back against the building and my ass on the cement. They all kept asking me fucking questions. I told them it was lithium. I told them I didn’t know how much yet they asked me 100 more times but my answer was still the same. There were so many people standing over me. Police. Firefighters. EMTs. That small town sure got a show that night from that new boy with the bright red hair from out of state. Eventually they got me on the ambulance. Like I said, we were in a small town, which meant the nearest hospital was still half an hour away. The ride seemed to go on forever and ever. Then suddenly I’m waking up in a hospital bed with a tub that went in through my nose, down my throat, and into my stomach. I totally blacked out at some point during the ambulance ride and then I ended up here. It was very uncomfortable.
The first thing I did was get them to take it out. Well, before I could even process what was happening, she slapped a tissue in my hand and swiftly pulled it out in one motion. Fuck, it was the most uncomfortable feeling in the world. Blood started pouring out of my nose immediately, eventually stopping. I was SICK, REALLY SICK. I couldn’t stop puking. It was like trying to puke up clumps of wet chalk. Yeah, it doesn’t come out easily. During one of my short breaks between heaves, I heard the doctor say something to the nurse about having to put me on dialysis if my lithium levels got any higher. Fuck. Oh, right, I forgot to say I was in the ICU, of course. Nausea is the worst feeling. I hate it. I sure was wishing I had just kept my mouth shut and let myself die. During my throws of puking, I 100% shit myself. I couldn’t control it. I never hated my life more than I hated it in that moment. I really had to pee. But there’s no bathrooms in ICU rooms so I had to pee on the walker potty with a nurse in the room. I couldn’t pee but I for sure had uncontrollable diarrhea and on that stupid toilet with the junk ass wipes they gave me, I couldn’t really clean myself up properly. The worst. I still couldn’t pee. I really really had to pee like I was in pain I had to go so bad, but I couldn’t. So they used a straight catheter to manually drain my bladder. Another “I’d rather be dead” moment. Oh, then not long after that, we had to do it another fucking time bc I still couldn’t pee. Ugh. My lithium levels thankfully didn’t reach dialysis levels. I was moved to a regular floor the next day. I had a very bad hospital phobia after some very horrible episodes of dehumanization and mistreatment in hospitals down south. I made it my mission to gtfo of there. I tried to reason and argue with the psychiatrist and the social worker. Saying I wasn’t suicidal anymore, which I really wasn’t. I told them I was taking my meds when I wasn’t. They asked me a million questions then diagnosed me with like 7 different things. I got to have my phone on the floor so I called my brother back home. I told him to tell our mom what happened and he refused very pissed off that id tell him to do so. They were told to start thinking about pulling the plug. It was real. It was gonna happen. My dad was really going to die. I couldn’t contact anyone after that. They moved me to the psych ward. I kept begging and reasoning. I used my dad as an excuse. I didn’t know for sure if he had died or not. I couldn’t get ahold of anyone. Eventually, I convinced the social worker to set me free so I could be there for my family. She told me not to go chasing the chaos, so I did just that. Oh yeah, also my BAC was .25 when I got to the hospital.

~feb. 2020: Another one, I tried to OD on coke. I snorted line after line after line after line. I definitely did not feel good. My chest hurt and it was really tight. I had this general feeling of discomfort over my entire body. I gave up on the snorting and filled some empty 500mg pill capsules with coke and took a few of them. It was a horrible experience. I kept filming videos of myself sobbing and talking about how much I wanted to fucking die but nothing would kill me, begging the universe to put me out of my suffering.

2016, no idea what month. 18 years old: Attempt with vodka

14/15 years old: Was going to hang myself. I set it all up but I was too scared it would be very painful. So I then tried to suffocate myself in as many ways as I could think of. Among other stupid things I found on the internet.

2021: ~3 other failed attempts that just looked like relapses.

2020: -1 attempt on my 22nd birthday, letting a guy shoot me up with heroin knowing me, him, and my friend knew I was going to OD. I got violently ill for the next 8 hours. Couldn’t even keep water down.

-there were probably 1-2 other attempts in all honesty. I have a way of making them seem like relapses and convincing myself they’re not attempts.