Mental Health ,
Recovery from a Suicid...
Those who found me thought it was a murder scene. Apparently the pink Benadryl pills, along with the tens of thousands of other milligrams of prescriptions and over-the-counter medications I took, made it look like blood. They thought I was dead and I should have been. I wanted to be. I had been unconscious nearly twelve hours.
The one flash I have of coming to was being transferred by the medical personnel from the gurney to the hospital bed. Everything was colored white except the navy of the nurse’s scrubs. I’m assuming it was in the ER.
I remember them cutting my clothes off and it was all like a nightmare. I couldn’t respond but I remember them counting, 1…2…3… before lifting me up and over. And what emotion do I remember from that? Shame. Ashamed of being naked. I had never been more vulnerable.