What are my after effects of an attempt at suicide? Well, it's sort of a long ass story. I've been struggling with bullshit since I was a teenager. I read someplace that depressed adults who attempted suicide as teenagers, have the highest likelihood of becoming that depressed again, and succeeding as an adult -- having more resources and isolation from family. I tried to kill myself in 2000 in the beginning of September just as my junior year was gong to begin. I managed to use some then-superior logic and conclude the best way for me to be satisfied with my life was to quit it. Similar to a job; who the heck wants to be fired? You just quit when you hate it, right? I couldn't stand myself, I hated myself, and my life. Many say that when in a suicidal state of mind, no one is truly thinking rationally, but I've been quite a rational person for a long time. I had come to the conclusion that I had no close friends, no family I felt truly close with, never knew how to bond with people (likely due to my adoption, at infancy, to an antagonistic and non-affectionate mother), and knew for certain that my future was bleak, lonely, miserable, and unaccomplished. I figured, "so what the heck's the point?" and decided how I was going to do it, when, and what I should do beforehand. I wrote my note, and took inventory of everything in the house I could terminate myself with. <Mod Edit, WildCherry: Methods>. See, back in the day, most people hadn't yet owned computers or had access to the internet to quickly Google "how can I kill myself," so I settled on a peaceful way out through <Mod Edit, WildCherry: Methods>. I thought that when people <Mod Edit, WildCherry: Methods>. The night of, I went into my mother's room where she was sleeping, and grabbed some of whatever it was I grabbed <Mod Edit, WildCherry: Methods>I remember her waking up at the ruckus I was making, and asked what I was doing (but she couldn't see because her room was dark with just a little outside light shining through), and I just told her that I have a headache and was looking for some medicine. <Mod Edit, WildCherry: Methods>. It's kind of surreal in retrospect because I remember the light from the tv that was on, and then remember praying, and telling myself when I was about to fall unconscious into sleep, and thought "I wonder if this will work" and "goodbye cruel world" and "The next time I wake up, if I wake up, will I be in heaven? Will God forgive me?" and so on, then I just passed out. I woke up the next morning, first thinking, "What the hell? I wonder if I get up and turn around, I wonder if I'll see my own body." So I did that, and didn't see no body. I was all dizzy and drowsed out, and stumbling, and was feeling incredibly weak, as if most of my muscles had disappeared. So I went to the kitchen, grabbed a <Mod Edit, WildCherry: Methods>, and walked back to my room. I just felt so damn desperate and there was nothing stopping me. No one home, since my mother always left for work at about 5 in the morning, and no one was going to call or come into the house, because I was supposed to have been in school. <Mod Edit, WildCherry: Methods> And for some reason, through coincidence, my mother came home early that day. It was only 10 in the morning, and she usually didn't get off work until 4pm. But that day, for some reason, she just had to bring her ass home, and was with one of her co-workers and close friends, who had driven her car. I heard the door open and her voice, and was thinking "what the hell?!" She comes back to my room and sees me on my knees there. The only thing I remember her doing wasn't crying, but was bitching about why I wasn't in school and why I was missing school and some bullshit, not even noticing my ass was on the floor on my damn knees, <Mod Edit, WildCherry: Methods>. I don't know if she was just embarrassed to mention what she may have thought because her co-worker and friend was there, and it was an embarrassment on her ass as a bad mother, or if she was truly that amazingly neglectful and stupid to think my ass didn't want to die. Her friend noticed, though. And she immediately came to me and said "let's go to the doctor, I think she might be ill! What happened!" or something to that effect. They got me dressed, and I think I was falling in and out of consciousness because the next thing I remember was being in the car and being pulled out of the car, then in my doctor's office. The doctor told us to go to the hospital and to the ER immediately. He was so concerned, I thought, that he had yelled at us and rushed us out of the office saying, "Go to the hospital, now! Now! You need to take her to the emergency room, right now!" The next thing I remember is being in the ER and a nurse or someone was drawing my blood. I saw it flowing through the clear tube, and it was completely purple, bright purple. The person that was doing it said something that was similar to a "she's toxic" or something about the color of the blood and something referred to as being toxic. <Mod Edit, WildCherry: Methods>. Then they gave me the charcoal liquid -- and it was horrible. Horrible is a gross understatement. Then I was in a hospital bed, and a woman in civilian clothing was over me with her bible, and telling me how I was lucky, how I was blessed. For some reason she already knew that my mother had come home early just in time. She told me that I would have died from poisoning if I had been home alone and no one had showed up. I don't know why, but I did feel that something, fate or destiny, the great scheme of the universe, had saved my ass; or that it wasn't meant to be for me to die when I wanted. That made me believe that my ass was still here because there's something else I'm supposed to do before I can die. I was sentenced, for the crime of failing to kill myself, to a month in a "behavioral institute" in Rockville, Maryland, where I met some others in my same situation around my age. I was there to still contemplate what that woman at the hospital over my bed was telling me, and thought there must be some reason fate still has my ass here. What the fuck that is, I have no clue but I wish it would hurry up and happen. All I know is ten years later, I'm feeling exactly the same all over again. Although I'm more mature and more reasonable, I find myself dealing with the same bullshit I did as a teenager, and don't know how to get over it. My existence has probably changed someone else's existence, or quality of it, since I work in social services now, but it sure as hell hasn't changed my thoughts on my own. My struggle is hardly so much as 'why the heck am I still here' though. It's that I have no fulfillment to look forward to. I'm not a very likable person, personality-wise. I'm polite, I'm generous and helpful, and smile often so that others won't think I'm the basket case that I am inside, but I've never been a likable person by others. I've had friends, but I've always felt lonely and sad. Even since I was a child -- my oldest memory I have is me crying on the day of my graduation from pre-school (about 5 years old going on 6 that very week, with my birthday a few days away and I know this because the graduation was recorded and I've seen the video), and crying because my mother made me feel like shit and beat me for something I didn't quite understand. And throughout that day I was still very sad, I remember. I remember the cookout party afterward in the park, next to the skating rink. I was incredibly sad. There was cake with my name on it, and I was surrounded by all these people, family, friends, people saying they love me and "happy birthday to you" and all I wanted to do was be by myself and try to skate by myself with no people watching. I went to the skating rink during the party, where my cousins (older than I) were all skating together in it, and seemed to be having fun. I wanted to join in, and they were just kids, and kids can be cruel. They played an awful trick on me. I wasn't a really good skater, and I wanted to skate with them. I skated with them, thinking I would be safe, and they held my hand, and slinged me (built up a high speed, and let go of my hand, setting me off by myself at 9 miles per hour on kids' roller skates made by Playskool, in an outdoor roller skating rink with a floor of concrete). Why'd I even bother trying to get along and have fun with others when they're just going to be such bitches. Anyway, even as a child, I was sad and lonely. I have no memory of ever being happy. The very few memories I have are when my dad took me and a few of my friends to Skyline Drive up on the Shenandoah mountains. The view was amazing and impossibly beautiful in the valley. A deer peacefully walked right up to me; didn't attack, it wasn't afraid, or anything, and simply walked away. It was as if the deer wanted to befriend me or check me out. Another happy memory was the day I was accepted to the college I wanted to attend. I felt great. I'm even having doubts as to whether this is a memory I would consider to have been 'happy,' since the consequences have left me in the shit hole I find myself in now. Again. That's my after effect. I'm lonely, sad, poor, indebted, unlikable, miserable, and certain of a similar future. I'm looking forward to, and expect, good things to happen in the future. The only reason I'm still here right now is because I still, somehow, manage to still have some hope. I'm involved in my community, politically and socially, and was the first in the family to finish college, and have plans to go to law school in 2011. For some reason, since I was young, I always thought I would die at age 28. There aren't too many kids who walk around saying "I think I'll die at age XX" when it's a low number. But for some reason before I had even become suicidal in my first attempt, I always figured that I would. I'm only a few years from that, but I still have plans. At the same time I'm making all of these plans, I still feel "what the hell am I doing here?" Every morning I feel suicidal. I feel like I can't live in this world if I can't control it and do what I want, when I want to do it, how I want to do it, without some person or some rule stopping me. There's a lack of control that I can't take. Oh just FUCK IT ALL. That's my after effect.