- Joined
- May 31, 2005
- Messages
- 834
okay, so i'm very drunk right now. that's why i feel comfortable sharing this information with a bunch of relatively random folks from the internet. i'm not looking for sympathy, i just think the whole scenario is completely bizarre and hilarious. i don't want you to worry about me. i just hope you folks can find the humor in this. i'll everything's going to be fine now. anyway, here's how it started.
well, i've always been prone to terrible fits of terrible thoughts of suicide. at the end of winter break this year, i decided it would be a good idea to take my life. so yeah. a few years back, i bought a tanto, which, for the uninitiated, is a samurai ritual suicide sword. the last night of my winter break, after getting terribly drunk and doing lots of drugs, i went home, and i thought, "you know what? i'd be better off dead. i hate everyone with the exclusion of my very close friends and the members of smashboards.com." so, i went and got my tanto. i then drove to a lake that my friends and i used to chill at quite a bit because it's an awesome lake.
next, i got out of my car. i took of my overcoat and scarf, then i took off my sweater and shirt. so yeah, i was topless in the middle of january in nj. then i retrieved the tanto from my car. i lit up one last marlboro red, and i got down on my knees. i unsheathed the tanto and began to press it against my stomach. i was completely prepared to eviscerate myself, despite that in real samurai suicide, they have a second who cuts off his head when the pain becomes too extreme. i figured, "whatever, i'm ****ed up as hell. i can take the pain." as i was finishing my cigarette, and just about ready to impale myself with the sword and have my inards spill out all over the gravel, but what happens, at 5:30 in the morning on a sunday night, but cars start pulling into the parking lot. i don't mean just one car, either. it was a parade of five or six cars. so here i am, topless in the middle of january, with a sword in my hand, desperately fumbling to unlock my car and get the hell out of there. i can only imagine what the drivers of the cars thought. i imagine it was infinitely amusing.
so yeah. eventually, i hop back in my car and drive away as quickly as possible. i couldn't think of anywhere else nearby that i could eviscerate myself and scream a whole bunch as i bleed to death without disturbing anyone, so i headed back home. still not satisfied, i got a bottle of aspirin from the medicine cabinet. i then drank the better part of a fifth of glenfiddich and took about fifty aspirin. then i put on side 2 of my vinyl of slint's "spiderland" and drifted off to sleep, believing i would never wake again.
alas. i woke up at around 11 am and started vomitting all over the place. the first thing that went through my mind was, "why the **** am i still alive?" so i started debating over whether or not i needed more aspirin, but i passed out again before i could take anymore. i woke up again at around 2 pm and started vomitting even more violently. at this point, i decided that i did, in fact, want to live. so i called my parents and told them the deal and asked them to take me to the hospital.
after about another hour or so, my dad showed up and took me to the hospital. my mom met us there. i told the people in the emergency room that i had a tooth ache and kept waking up throughout the night and taking more aspirin, and that i may have accidentally overdosed. yeah, i can make up lies on the spot pretty well, even when i'm high on aspirin, aparently. and yes, you apparently can actually get high on aspirin, but it was not at all a fun high. i was super confused and i kept vomitting all over the place. i know my body, though, and i knew i was going to live.
so yeah, after a couple hours, they admit me to the hospital and hook me up to a bunch of sensors and made me drink activated charcoal. which tastes worse than anything i've ever tasted. the doctor was like, "whoa! you drank all that charcoal that quickly!? most people can't drink all that, especially not that quickly!" anyway, they made me get in one of those gowns, so my arms were exposed. when all the doctors and nurses came to take my blood and talk to me and what not, they all started asking what happened and why i had severe scars all over my arms. i should have just told them i'm a masochist and i like it rough, but i couldn't bring myself to that because i'm actually much more of a sadist. but part of me is still masochistic. so yeah. i told them that i used to hurt myself a long time ago. i could tell they didn't really believe me, and they pretty much knew it was a suicide attempt, but i didn't want that going on any sort of record.
so the main doctor eventually told me he wanted a psychiatrist to see me. i agreed. they still weren't sure i was going to survive because of the amount of time the aspirin was in my system, and they were debating putting me on dialysis, but i knew **** well i was going to survive and be swell because i know my body and my limits quite well. also, for some reason, they wouldn't let me drink or eat anything, and i remember feeling like i was lawrence of arabia or something my mouth was so dry. i would have killed princess diana for a drink of water. so then they made various people stay on suicide watch in my room with me and eventually my parents left and i passed out.
i ended up staying in the hospital for three days before my kidney function returned to a level they were sure i would survive at. after the first day, i saw the psychiatrist, and made sure everything was confidential and i told her what went down. she started me on paxil, xanax, and ambien. i have to say, i've abused ambien only a handful of times before, but they gave me two pills each night to help me sleep. and so i stayed up and fought the urge to sleep and i just started hallucinating. it was really cool. in one room i was in, i just zoned out on this picture in my room, and i started hallucinating that it was in 3d and moving and changing. it was really ****ing awesome.
eventually, after my parents pleaded with me, i agreed to be checked into a mental hospital. as much as i want to, i can't really say too much about the mental hospital because it's confidential and all that. let me just say this. there was one person there who had a terrible fear of bananas because when he was young, a man kindnapped him and ***** him with a banana. so, since i had thrown up a whole bunch and lost a lot of potassium, i got a couple bananas delivered to my room each morning. i usually ate them midday or so, so they were in my room for a good while. and so yeah, whenever this guy came into my room to talk to my roommate, he would start freaking out for a couple of minutes before my roommate could calm him down. i was never there, but it sounded funny as hell the way my roommate described it. the guy would apparently start punching and kicking the wall and screaming and ****.
anyway, after a couple days there, they diagnosed me as having bipolar I disorder, social phobia, anxiety, and insomnia, ontop of the add that i was diagnosed with my sophomore year of highschool. so right now i'm on a ton of drugs. paxil, depakote, vistiril, trazodone, and adderall. i feel like i have aids or something, and that if i don't take my drug cocktail, i'll drop dead immediately or something. it's kind of funny. also, my arm got infiltrated from the iv and swelled up with water and got infected, so for a while i was also on quite a bit of cipro.
so yeah. after a week, they released me and so now i'm going for therapy 6 hours a day, 5 days a week. it's quite troublesome because i have to wake up at about 8:30. for reference, i have a very hard time waking up, so i haven't taken classes before 12 since my first semester freshman year of college.
anyway, yeah. that's my completely absurd story. it's also the reason i'm back at home in nj and not in berkeley ca this semester. there's no way i could balance school with concentrating on my recovery. i still can't even imagine what the **** those cars driving by me at the lake thought. that's the funniest part. i mean seriously, who the **** commits suicide like that? what the **** was i thinking??
anyway, now i'm happy i'm alive and severely medicated and i met a lot of great people at the mental hospital. i'm actually dating a girl i met there. she's so cool, i think i might lose my virginity to her. seriously.
after hearing that i met a hot, cool as hell girl in the mental hospital, and telling him my story, valoem as like, "holy crap! i wanna go to a mental hospital now! how do i get in? i'm going to cut my wrists and then go to the hospital and say, 'oh god, i'm soooooooo depressed. please institutionalize me!'"
oh gerry. you're a funny man indeed.
well, i've always been prone to terrible fits of terrible thoughts of suicide. at the end of winter break this year, i decided it would be a good idea to take my life. so yeah. a few years back, i bought a tanto, which, for the uninitiated, is a samurai ritual suicide sword. the last night of my winter break, after getting terribly drunk and doing lots of drugs, i went home, and i thought, "you know what? i'd be better off dead. i hate everyone with the exclusion of my very close friends and the members of smashboards.com." so, i went and got my tanto. i then drove to a lake that my friends and i used to chill at quite a bit because it's an awesome lake.
next, i got out of my car. i took of my overcoat and scarf, then i took off my sweater and shirt. so yeah, i was topless in the middle of january in nj. then i retrieved the tanto from my car. i lit up one last marlboro red, and i got down on my knees. i unsheathed the tanto and began to press it against my stomach. i was completely prepared to eviscerate myself, despite that in real samurai suicide, they have a second who cuts off his head when the pain becomes too extreme. i figured, "whatever, i'm ****ed up as hell. i can take the pain." as i was finishing my cigarette, and just about ready to impale myself with the sword and have my inards spill out all over the gravel, but what happens, at 5:30 in the morning on a sunday night, but cars start pulling into the parking lot. i don't mean just one car, either. it was a parade of five or six cars. so here i am, topless in the middle of january, with a sword in my hand, desperately fumbling to unlock my car and get the hell out of there. i can only imagine what the drivers of the cars thought. i imagine it was infinitely amusing.
so yeah. eventually, i hop back in my car and drive away as quickly as possible. i couldn't think of anywhere else nearby that i could eviscerate myself and scream a whole bunch as i bleed to death without disturbing anyone, so i headed back home. still not satisfied, i got a bottle of aspirin from the medicine cabinet. i then drank the better part of a fifth of glenfiddich and took about fifty aspirin. then i put on side 2 of my vinyl of slint's "spiderland" and drifted off to sleep, believing i would never wake again.
alas. i woke up at around 11 am and started vomitting all over the place. the first thing that went through my mind was, "why the **** am i still alive?" so i started debating over whether or not i needed more aspirin, but i passed out again before i could take anymore. i woke up again at around 2 pm and started vomitting even more violently. at this point, i decided that i did, in fact, want to live. so i called my parents and told them the deal and asked them to take me to the hospital.
after about another hour or so, my dad showed up and took me to the hospital. my mom met us there. i told the people in the emergency room that i had a tooth ache and kept waking up throughout the night and taking more aspirin, and that i may have accidentally overdosed. yeah, i can make up lies on the spot pretty well, even when i'm high on aspirin, aparently. and yes, you apparently can actually get high on aspirin, but it was not at all a fun high. i was super confused and i kept vomitting all over the place. i know my body, though, and i knew i was going to live.
so yeah, after a couple hours, they admit me to the hospital and hook me up to a bunch of sensors and made me drink activated charcoal. which tastes worse than anything i've ever tasted. the doctor was like, "whoa! you drank all that charcoal that quickly!? most people can't drink all that, especially not that quickly!" anyway, they made me get in one of those gowns, so my arms were exposed. when all the doctors and nurses came to take my blood and talk to me and what not, they all started asking what happened and why i had severe scars all over my arms. i should have just told them i'm a masochist and i like it rough, but i couldn't bring myself to that because i'm actually much more of a sadist. but part of me is still masochistic. so yeah. i told them that i used to hurt myself a long time ago. i could tell they didn't really believe me, and they pretty much knew it was a suicide attempt, but i didn't want that going on any sort of record.
so the main doctor eventually told me he wanted a psychiatrist to see me. i agreed. they still weren't sure i was going to survive because of the amount of time the aspirin was in my system, and they were debating putting me on dialysis, but i knew **** well i was going to survive and be swell because i know my body and my limits quite well. also, for some reason, they wouldn't let me drink or eat anything, and i remember feeling like i was lawrence of arabia or something my mouth was so dry. i would have killed princess diana for a drink of water. so then they made various people stay on suicide watch in my room with me and eventually my parents left and i passed out.
i ended up staying in the hospital for three days before my kidney function returned to a level they were sure i would survive at. after the first day, i saw the psychiatrist, and made sure everything was confidential and i told her what went down. she started me on paxil, xanax, and ambien. i have to say, i've abused ambien only a handful of times before, but they gave me two pills each night to help me sleep. and so i stayed up and fought the urge to sleep and i just started hallucinating. it was really cool. in one room i was in, i just zoned out on this picture in my room, and i started hallucinating that it was in 3d and moving and changing. it was really ****ing awesome.
eventually, after my parents pleaded with me, i agreed to be checked into a mental hospital. as much as i want to, i can't really say too much about the mental hospital because it's confidential and all that. let me just say this. there was one person there who had a terrible fear of bananas because when he was young, a man kindnapped him and ***** him with a banana. so, since i had thrown up a whole bunch and lost a lot of potassium, i got a couple bananas delivered to my room each morning. i usually ate them midday or so, so they were in my room for a good while. and so yeah, whenever this guy came into my room to talk to my roommate, he would start freaking out for a couple of minutes before my roommate could calm him down. i was never there, but it sounded funny as hell the way my roommate described it. the guy would apparently start punching and kicking the wall and screaming and ****.
anyway, after a couple days there, they diagnosed me as having bipolar I disorder, social phobia, anxiety, and insomnia, ontop of the add that i was diagnosed with my sophomore year of highschool. so right now i'm on a ton of drugs. paxil, depakote, vistiril, trazodone, and adderall. i feel like i have aids or something, and that if i don't take my drug cocktail, i'll drop dead immediately or something. it's kind of funny. also, my arm got infiltrated from the iv and swelled up with water and got infected, so for a while i was also on quite a bit of cipro.
so yeah. after a week, they released me and so now i'm going for therapy 6 hours a day, 5 days a week. it's quite troublesome because i have to wake up at about 8:30. for reference, i have a very hard time waking up, so i haven't taken classes before 12 since my first semester freshman year of college.
anyway, yeah. that's my completely absurd story. it's also the reason i'm back at home in nj and not in berkeley ca this semester. there's no way i could balance school with concentrating on my recovery. i still can't even imagine what the **** those cars driving by me at the lake thought. that's the funniest part. i mean seriously, who the **** commits suicide like that? what the **** was i thinking??
anyway, now i'm happy i'm alive and severely medicated and i met a lot of great people at the mental hospital. i'm actually dating a girl i met there. she's so cool, i think i might lose my virginity to her. seriously.
after hearing that i met a hot, cool as hell girl in the mental hospital, and telling him my story, valoem as like, "holy crap! i wanna go to a mental hospital now! how do i get in? i'm going to cut my wrists and then go to the hospital and say, 'oh god, i'm soooooooo depressed. please institutionalize me!'"
oh gerry. you're a funny man indeed.
im so glad i can hear these stories. cheers, friend.
