In the last few days I've been drawn to this forum. I've been here before, I don't remember when exactly.
I think I was here a little before I started getting on meds (by the end of last year, I believe). I went to the psychiatrist, he medicated me and things started to be a little easier and I think I stopped coming here because... Well, it reminds us of suicide.
I don't know why, but after a few months on medication I started getting depressed again, even though I was on meds. It was worse now because I had new means of ending my life. I started to think a lot about killing myself, but I didn't want to. On a moment of desperation I did it. Then wrote a goodbye message to my cousin, who is a very good friend (and lives on my building) and another friend, that by that time was in another city and couldn't do much.
I was in bed waiting for death when somebody knocked on the door. It was my cousin's voice telling my mom what I did. They entered my room and called an ambulance.
Spent the night at the hospital and in the morning went to the psychiatric hospital where the doctor asked me how I felt about being internalized into the hospital. I said no, that I was fine and that I wasn't thinking about doing it again. Prescribed me some more stuff and told me to call and to ask to be internalized if I was feeling suicidal.
A few days (three I think) went by and my mom, because we have beliefs of something more, brought me to a man with a very good reputation. Supposedly he'd help me in a spiritual way. Turns out he didn't see people on that same day. I got really bored and disappointed and started thinking that it was pointless to try to help me because there was no way to fix me.
As soon as I got home I did it again.
Luckily (?) my mom arrived earlier and saw me in bed and called the ambulance. I have little memories of when she found me and what happened next, but I know my mom was desperate.
This time I didn't have to spend the night in the hospital and after being take care of I was sent to the psychiatric hospital where I was seen by a different doctor that internalized me. I stomped my foot and made a scandal even though I'm a very peaceful person. There was no way they'd put in a hospital.
I was supposed to be there for two or three days but because I didn't agree to the treatment I was held there for a week and a few days.
My mom and my grandma came to visit me every day and so many people came to show me their care and affection and I sympathized with some of the patients there. I felt kinda sorry leaving my new "friends" behind when I left the hospital, but I really needed home. The cozy home, my precious room and my precious people. Even the outside was precious because when I was in the hospital I wasn't allowed outside.
Anyways, I felt very good and a few months later (all this happened in January-February) I went to see my doctors because of the meds and he took me off them. I said I didn't like the side effects and he said that was okay, that I'd do good with therapy alone.
The next months have been really good. I'll finish the story later, I need to go pick my boyfriend at work, it's his last day there and I'm late. (Gosh, I feel better just writing about my past experience, thanks for existing Suicideforum!)
I think I was here a little before I started getting on meds (by the end of last year, I believe). I went to the psychiatrist, he medicated me and things started to be a little easier and I think I stopped coming here because... Well, it reminds us of suicide.
I don't know why, but after a few months on medication I started getting depressed again, even though I was on meds. It was worse now because I had new means of ending my life. I started to think a lot about killing myself, but I didn't want to. On a moment of desperation I did it. Then wrote a goodbye message to my cousin, who is a very good friend (and lives on my building) and another friend, that by that time was in another city and couldn't do much.
I was in bed waiting for death when somebody knocked on the door. It was my cousin's voice telling my mom what I did. They entered my room and called an ambulance.
Spent the night at the hospital and in the morning went to the psychiatric hospital where the doctor asked me how I felt about being internalized into the hospital. I said no, that I was fine and that I wasn't thinking about doing it again. Prescribed me some more stuff and told me to call and to ask to be internalized if I was feeling suicidal.
A few days (three I think) went by and my mom, because we have beliefs of something more, brought me to a man with a very good reputation. Supposedly he'd help me in a spiritual way. Turns out he didn't see people on that same day. I got really bored and disappointed and started thinking that it was pointless to try to help me because there was no way to fix me.
As soon as I got home I did it again.
Luckily (?) my mom arrived earlier and saw me in bed and called the ambulance. I have little memories of when she found me and what happened next, but I know my mom was desperate.
This time I didn't have to spend the night in the hospital and after being take care of I was sent to the psychiatric hospital where I was seen by a different doctor that internalized me. I stomped my foot and made a scandal even though I'm a very peaceful person. There was no way they'd put in a hospital.
I was supposed to be there for two or three days but because I didn't agree to the treatment I was held there for a week and a few days.
My mom and my grandma came to visit me every day and so many people came to show me their care and affection and I sympathized with some of the patients there. I felt kinda sorry leaving my new "friends" behind when I left the hospital, but I really needed home. The cozy home, my precious room and my precious people. Even the outside was precious because when I was in the hospital I wasn't allowed outside.
Anyways, I felt very good and a few months later (all this happened in January-February) I went to see my doctors because of the meds and he took me off them. I said I didn't like the side effects and he said that was okay, that I'd do good with therapy alone.
The next months have been really good. I'll finish the story later, I need to go pick my boyfriend at work, it's his last day there and I'm late. (Gosh, I feel better just writing about my past experience, thanks for existing Suicideforum!)
