I wish I could say that I didn’t know what had gotten into me that day, 12th of March 2009. Truth is, I knew. I saw it coming all along. The thing I was running away from, it finally caught up with me after all these years, 21 years. It was a Tuesday in early March. I remember because Tuesdays were my favourite days at school. Just not that day. I woke up that Tuesday and had an internal dialogue with myself about going to school or not. Lately people told me to stop avoiding my problems and face them for once. I have the tendency to just not walk away from problems but really run. So I figured that for once in my life I should be the bigger person, that I should stop avoiding conflicts and just go. So I kicked myself out of bed and went. There was a conflict within my project group and it escalated. It was not so much the conflict itself, more that the feedback was taken to a personal level instead of a professional level. And as I was sitting there I started to think; why am I here? Why the hell did I even try? But mostly why the hell I was taking shit from someone else. That was really the last thing I needed. I don’t need to sit there and take crap from anyone. So I did what I always do, I walked away. As soon as I reached the doorknob my teacher asked me; where do you think you are going? I turned around and answered her question with “I’m going home, I am sick”. It was there and then, within that moment that openly admitted to myself that I had a problem, that I was sick. I walked out of the school, knowing that I wasn’t even going to go back there. I took the bus to my house. On the way I texted someone that means the world to me, how I wish he could say the same about me but that doesn’t really matter. I just wanted to let him know that I was sorry and that I loved him. When I got home, I took my bunny out of his cage and gave him a big hug goodbye. It were XXX. I knew that I was going to work cause I had been doing research for months. But just to make sure I added XXX to it. Now the XXX, I’m not going to tell you what they were, were easy to swallow. The painkillers on the other hand were disgusting. Just the taste of them alone, grosses me out. When I finally swallowed it all, I had a moment of clarity. What the hell was I doing? This was all a little bit to easy and too good to be true. Was it really that simple? Could you really just take a XXX, fall asleep and die? Was that what I really wanted? It was not. I panicked. All I really wanted was to have some control over things in my life. And I officially lost control of everything, including myself. So what do you do? You just call someone and say: hey, hows you? I got a problem, I just tried to kill myself with a XXXX. What do I do now? Well that was what I did and the person I called was my mom. That was sad because her biggest fear became a reality. She knew I was sad, depressed and suicidal. She had seen the scars on my arms from cutting and she knew this day was going to come around. Thing was that she lives 2 hours away from me. She told me she was coming and she told me to wait. About 30 minute later I got a call from the ambulance. It was an annoying lady asking all kinds of questions. I got angry with her because all I wanted was to be left alone. Then she said that an ambulance was on his way. I got angry and started yelling that I was fine. I felt ok at the time, as far as you can feel ok after taking an overdose. So I told her that it was not necessary. She got angry with me and ordered me to not go anywhere. Bitchy as I am, I asked her what she was planning on doing if I left, I mean free country right? An ambulance in front of my house was not what I needed right now, I just wanted my mom. So I sat in the kitchen waiting for the ambulance to arrive, secretly praying that it wouldn’t show up. Too bad for me, it did. Two guys came out and I stood in the doorway with a grumpy face. Yep, no way in hell these to guys were planning on leaving without me. I couldn’t believe this was really happening, this was not what I wanted. The guy in the ambulance started to ask me what I took, how I got it and why I did him. I remember him looking at me in a way that said “aaw poor girl tries to kill herself because of a conflict in school”. He even started saying that it was normal to have conflicts on school. To avoid another conflict I just nodded and stared out of the ambulance window. What did he knew about me aside from what I told him? Exactly, nothing. All the time I carried around my bunny in a bag. I was assuming I was going home and when I go home, he goes with me. So when I arrived in the hospital and the nurses found out I had a bunny in one of my bags they started to freak out. Guess there are no animals allowed, understandable but I wasn’t planning on leaving him outside of the building. To avoid me making another scene, they let me keep him. They put me on a bed, took some blood samples and started questioning me about all sorts of things. Then my parents walked in to the emergency room. The look upon their faces was heartbreaking. I still feel guilty about that, I never intended to hurt them in the process but I guess that is unavoidable. My mom was holding my hand while I was telling everyone the this was ridiculous because I felt fine. But all the sudden it kicked in, I felt so strangely tired. I tried to keep my eyes open but that was painful. My eyes were moving around like crazy and I had no control over my sight. The nurse told me to close my eyes but I was too afraid to close my eyes and fall asleep. Then a doctor came in with a medicine called “Norit”, it basically soaks up all the toxics in your stomach. But the name of my bunny also happens to be Norit, so I thought he was going to give me my bunny when he said: “I got Norit for you”. Instead he gave the medicine. I giggled because it was kind of funny, at least I thought it was until my mom told me to stop laughing. In the meantime they put all these wires to my chest for some reason and they put a clip on my finger to measure my heartbeat. But that clipthing kept falling off and when it did, alarm went of. The doctor gave me the Norit to drink and I was thinking to myself that I was going to drink that all up but after the first sip I changed my mind. It was so gross it made me wanna puke. But at the same time my heartbeat started to race out of control. Everybody started pushing me back and told me to lay down. I struggled because I had to puke and you can’t puke when you lay down. Alarm bells went of like crazy, I laughed because I thought to myself; “ooh the alarm bells are going off”. That is a thing my mom usually says when the laundry machine is finished and it goes off. I fell asleep, that is all I remember. They transferred me to another hospital. I remember waking up during the ride and noticed that the siren was on, so something must have been wrong. When I woke up again, I was alone in a hospital bed, wired to machines and it was dark outside. My mom stood on the hallway, listening to a doctor. When she saw that I awake she came over. She told me that they brought me to this hospital. All I was thinking was why I was alone. I visited people in hospitals and they share rooms with other people. A nurse walked in, she figured that I must have been hungry and she gave me dinner. It were beans, I hate beans but for some reason I eat them all. My parents just sat next to my bed, staring at me. My mom was holding my hand and I thanked her to calling the ambulance. I knew that was what she needed to hear at that time and I honestly felt thankful that she did. After dinner they went home because I needed some ‘rest’. It was 8 o’clock so I asked the nurse if I could watch tv, I wanted to see my favourite soap. So I did, watched some CSI and fell asleep. 01:19 It was 01:19 when I woke up. I can still picture the red display. It was Wednesday and it was my birthday. So I woke up on my birthday because of this annoying and painful machine which measured my blood pressure every 30 minutes. I couldn’t move because I was wired to some other crazy machine which made sure my heart was still beating. And my arm was bruised because of the IV. Then the nurse walked to check if I was still alive. That is one way to wake up on your 22th birthday. The rest of the night I spent thinking things over while listening to some music. Nurse walked in and out to check out my IV. I kept on looking at the red display, time never passed by so slow. In the morning the doctor walked in. She practically yelled good morning to me, just to wake me up since I was snoozing a little. She looked at the papers and paused for a minute. She looked up from her paper and said that it was my birthday. I confirmed that it was and smiled, waiting for her to congratulate me, she didn’t. She didn’t congratulate me with my birthday. At that point I realised that it all was real. It wasn’t a bad dream, all night I was hoping I would just wake up and things would be normal again. But it wasn’t a dream, it was real. She continued telling about what was going to happen to day, doctors and a psychiatrist were going to drop by later. When the nurse walked in with breakfast, she left. The nurse told me my parents were dropping by later on. I wanted to see my parents, I wanted to see a familiar face in the crowed of strangers that kept on gathering around my bed. I wanted my phone, I wanted to text people. I wanted to get out of there and go back to the real world because everything in there was a blur. It already was 4 o’clock in the afternoon when my parents stopped by. Again I saw them talking to a doctor. It’s strange when you see your parents standing in the hallway and you know that they are talking about you. I was allowed to go home. I didn’t know where I was, I only saw the inside of the room I was in. So when I walked out the room I felt lost. I had no idea where I was, I had no memory of getting into this hospital in the first place. The nurse made I little joke about the fact that normally people just don’t walk out from this unit and go home. I didn’t get it until we stepped into the elevator. Turned out that I spend the night on the intensive care unit. That explained why I was the only one in the room. So I turned at my mom and asked her why I was at the ICU because that is a place for people who are nearly dyeing. She stepped out the elevator and mumbled:”you were”. As I am sitting here, writing this today, 8 months later, I can safely say that I am ok. Yes, I am still lost when it comes to life. I don’t know what I want yet, I don’t know who I am. All I know is that I am ok and that is good enough for me. This experience, as I like to call it, taught me so much. It changed my outlook on life, made me see how precious life is. I’m glad I did not die that day, it wasn’t meant to be. I am glad that I did what I did because it allowed me to fix what was broke. It’s not everyday you get a second chance at life, literally. It is the best birthday present I ever got.