Warning: REALLY long. Monday night I was (mentally) all over the place. Some people on here may remember my post in the Uncertainty Principle that evening... I was quite delusional actually. Anyway, I overdosed very heavily on Monday night. 2 pills at a time, over and over, followed by water. Afterwards, I went back to the kitchen to finish the washing up. Then came the sickness. I'd not eaten since early Sunday morning, so an empty stomach hardly helped matters. I threw up once in the bathroom. At some point a bit that night (not much later, but I wasn't really keeping track of time), the effects of the OD were starting to hit me, and I was feeling really sick. So, I packed a bag and set off to walk to A&E (ER), about 2-ish miles away I think. Yep, walk. Somehow in my delusional state of mind, I convinced myself that since I could walk, I would be wasting an ambulance's time. I got most of the way to the hospital on foot, but I was feeling increasingly sick with each step, and felt like I wanted to throw up again. However, I knew that the local psychiatric hospital was en route (I've been there before for an ED support group). It was only really when I reached the p hospital that I decided to go in there, but I guess it doesn't really matter. I figured that a hospital is a hospital, and that someone would know what to do. So I went in and told the people at Reception, who called an ambulance to take me to A&E. Spent a long time waiting to be seen, convincing myself that therefore I couldn't possibly be *that* serious if I was waiting so long to be treated. So yeah... eventually, sometime after 1am (I'd overdosed around half 8 in the evening), I was put on the ward, with an IV drip. (Not exactly sure what it was, but the nurse said it was an antidote, and I know it had glucose in it. Didn't really see the point in arguing tbh, just let them do what they wanted.) The first half of the rest of the night was AWFUL. I've never been that sick before. I felt nauseated from moving an inch, and spent most of the night throwing up. The nurses told me the drip would make me feel sick at first, but that it might also be the amount of pills I OD'd on that I was throwing up too. I wasn't even sure *what* I was throwing up, as my stomach was basically empty since I'd not eaten for about 2 days by then. I was too tired and sick to even be at all embarrassed when the nurse gave me an injection in my behind to try and stop the nausea. Woke up in time for breakfast the next morning... only managed one slice of toast out of the two, and none of the orange juice. Managed a bit more lunch and was eating properly again by dinnertime. That morning (Tuesday), the doctor came on his round, and said that I'd most likely be on the drip until midnight, but they'd keep me on it until Wednesday morning just to be on the safe side. He said that after that, I'd *physically* be OK to go, but that I had to see the psych team Tuesday and most likely Wednesday too, before my chances of being discharged could be confirmed. Tuesday I was quite a bit less delusional. I still felt worried about "pink clouds coming to get me", and couldn't explain how or why, but I could at least recognise the fact that that did sound a bit unusual. That morning I saw the liaison psychiatrist, who told me he wanted to talk to me again on Wednesday too. Wednesday morning I came off the drip, and saw the pdoc again. He said he'd refer me to the pdoc at the hospital close to where I'm currently staying, and also gave me some MH lit, websites, phone numbers etc, but said that otherwise he was happy for me to go. I was a bit surprised actually, I'd expected to be kept in longer. Oh well. So yeah... got home Wednesday lunchtime. One friend wanted me to come out into town for the day because the weather was good... I resisted and eventually declined (I have hayfever, and burn extremely easily in the sun), and decided to stay in the flat. However, that wasn't quite the end of the problem. When the pdoc had asked me at the hospital if I still felt suicidal, I had truthfully (at that time) answered no, because I didn't want to repeat the effects of Monday night again. Were there a guaranteed easy/painless method to commit suicide, the answer would have probably been different, but I'm rather averse to pain. (That's why I OD'd rather than used another method.) I was discharged, I walked back to the flat, I was all fine. The problem started when I got back inside the flat: you see, Monday night, I'd taken all the pills I thought I'd use, out of their packets and put them on the bed. When I OD'd, I didn't manage to swallow as many as I planned. So, when I got back from hospital, the leftover pills were still lying on the bed. Not good. I felt scared and didn't trust myself not to OD again if I went in there. So I shut myself in the living room, and read, wrote, watched TV and slept. Luckily, my friend Laura wanted to visit me and check I was doing OK. When she arrived (with food, hugs and sympathy), I explained to her why I couldn't go in the bedroom, and she was awesome. She took the pills away for me. I have no idea if she kept them/threw them away/whatever, but I decided it didn't matter, so long as they weren't there for me to OD on. Strangely, although there was other stuff in the flat that could potentially enable a suicide attempt, it was only the pills I'd left on the bed that I didn't trust myself with. I wasn't even remotely tempted by alcohol, or sharp knives, or my friend's prescription drugs in the bathroom cabinet. (Partly because I'm pain averse... I attempted to cut once, a few years ago, and hardly even managed to get to the size of a paper cut because it hurt too much.) Don't get me wrong, I do sometimes self harm (not often, just occasionally when I'm really bad), but I usually bite or hit myself, or pick a scab if I am doing it. Laura has been amazing the last few days. She planned to visit me in hospital (though I was discharged before she could), so then she visited me when I got out; she brought food for me to heat up, filled my kitchen/fridge etc with food (I hadn't thought to food shop coming back from the hospital), then stayed with me, talking to me to check I'd be OK. Today, she came round this afternoon and we baked a cake, she bought me even *more* food, and we had a girly night in with a DVD. I'm not (as) suicidal anymore... I don't know of a method that won't hurt and/or put me through a similar/worse hell than Monday night, and I don't want to repeat Monday night again. So, I'm stuck living for the moment. Part of me is happy about that, part of me isn't. But for now I'm just dealing with it. I think Laura's coming round tomorrow night for *another* girly DVD night. We're sticking to fluffy chick flicks atm, partly because Laura doesn't like gory/creepy stuff, and a lot of my other DVDs are kind of depressing/morbid. I'm trying to occupy my time as much as possible at the moment, even if that means taking regular naps. This week, I've still got to properly clean the kitchen; take out the recycling; take a bag of stuff to donate to the charity shop; catch up on the tv shows I watch and vacuum the flat. It's not highly urgent stuff, but it's something to do. I also plan to go to church on Sunday, since I'm currently just a minute's walk away. (My friend nicknamed it "happy church" because she says the people there seem incessantly cheerful.) Unfortunately because it's summer there's only one Sunday service atm rather than the usual 2 or 3, but it is a nice atmosphere. I'm still not *completely* overjoyed that I survived (despite having gone to hospital of my own free will), but I can't really think of an easy way to get around that, so I figure I might as well fill my days in the meantime. :blink: Whoops. Sorry for the novel!