I have been, in some eyes, very lucky this past week. I survived, first a car accident that my car, unfortunately didn't not survive. I then managed to survived my self. God himself only knows how. But to be honest I don't remember most of it. So I only have the words of others to trust, and trust is not something I am known to give easily. Even to family.
First you should know that what I am about to retell may be hard to read, let alone for me to write. I have been going to write about this all week, just to get it out of my system. But it is hard. You should also know that if you are experiencing anything like this, I urge you to get some help. I have been seeing professionals for the majority of my life, and it is worth getting help. I also have a formal diagnosis, so please do not go diagnosing your self by my words.
If you have read my older posts you will find that my past diagnosis include forms of personality disorders. Well my most recent diagnosis is that of another Personality disorder. This time the doctors have decided it is Borderline Personality Disorder. Which makes sense, but so do many things when you look at them objectively.
Anyway back to my original story. Monday evening, after a rather distressing day, in which I had to fork out money for towing of my car which I didn't not want. This happened because, according to the police, I ran off in the ambulance. And then a trip to the police station to present my licence as I had been asked to, I was told that no one had done this since 1981. Another officer told me that I would most likely lose my license.
So, as it would seem I had become quite upset by the whole situation. But I was proudly keeping my head. I was going to spend the night at my parents house, where my brother also lives, and my niece. I was trying my hardest just to understand what was happening in my life and I negected to speak to my mother as with the respect I should. My brother pulled me up on it and as I was already on edge I tried walking away as to not get too emotional. Him grabbing my shirt was the last thing I remember.
The next thing I know I was waking up in the intensive care unit. Three lines in my arms.
The worst part was, I was in bliss. A blissful nothing-ness. Where I had not a worry. But then to have that ripped from me, and to be returned to my own personal hell? It was all I could do to tell my mother to go home and get some sleep.
I was out of it for 2 days. The day I woke up, they sent me home. I have had to cope on my own for 2 nights. Now at my parents house again, I feel, well like it could all happen again. Its very early morning, and sleep will not come easily. As the doctors have taken me off my sleeping medication as that is what I overdosed on.
But I as i said, I am getting the help I need.
Love and Light
