When I first began feeling depressed and irritable I tried to push myself along and act like nothing was wrong. Just a little stress, no big deal… However, It didn’t take long before my family started to catch on to the fact that I wasn’t myself. Before long, I admitted that I was stressed out and depressed, but I was convinced that if I pushed myself I could get through it on my own. I was very headstrong and self motivated that way, I didn’t want to depend on any doctor or pills.
Nonetheless, my mental state progressively got worse and after a month or so I decided to seek help from my family doctor. I had suffered from anxiety intermittently in the past, so I assumed it would be me just going through the motions again. I would get prescribed an antidepressant and be told that it will take a few weeks to notice any improvements, I would take it for a year or so to stabilize myself… Yeah, yeah I knew how it worked, been there done that…Well, I did get prescribed an antidepressant, but it did not help me this time. I seemed to just continue to get increasingly worse.
Another month went by before I decided to seek help from a psychologist that I had been treated by previously. I began counseling and was switched to another antidepressant. Still, something just wasn’t right. I was unstable, my moods were fluctuating, I was extremely irritable, and well.. I was just flat-out unhappy. My husband had to return to his hometown in Canada to take care of some things and we both agreed that I should go with him. We thought that maybe it would be good for me to take a break from my everyday life, even the psychologist agreed.
The beginning of our trip was fun! We went sightseeing, played in the snow, ate all of our favorite junk food… But yet again, little by little each day, my mental state declined. In fact, I reached an all time low. I was unable to fake it anymore. I couldn’t interact with people normally, I was isolating myself and crying all the time. I was sick of feeling terrible. I did not understand what was going on inside of me and I was scared. I still vividly remember exploding with tears while my thoughts were racing and thinking to myself, ‘I can’t live like this anymore, I can’t handle this. What is wrong with me? I’m done.’ It was at that moment that I emptied my pill bottle into my hand and put them in my mouth. My husband entered the room just as I was doing so and the last thing I remember was how angry he was. He called an ambulance and dragged me outside to meet them, that’s when things went black.
I very faintly remember waking up in the hospital and somehow functioning enough for them to release me. I will be completely honest though, I pumped so many benzos into my body that I barely remember anything from the next couple days after that. My husband notified my parents, and being the overly protective and loving people that they are, they flew to Canada to bring me back home with them. Things were still pretty fuzzy for me at that time, but I remember getting a hotel with them and begging my husband to come home with me. My husband assured me that he wouldn’t leave my side and I convinced them that I would be okay for a day so they could at least explore Canada a little.
Another moment of honesty, my mind was still so foggy that I vaguely remember but.. I made another attempt to take myself out that night… We were on the first flight home the next day. My head was still so foggy that I couldn’t tell you much else about that day… Until we landed at our home airport. I recall saying: “I can’t wait to get home and sleep in my own bed.” Looking out the window, I realized that we weren’t going in the direction of my house. I asked where we were going and the car got silent… I wasn’t going home. That is the moment that I realized I was being taken to the hospital for an evaluation. My chest got tight, my eyes filled with tears and my thoughts started racing.
We arrived at the ER and they admitted me immediately. I was in a state of shock, overwhelmed with my situation. I didn’t know what to expect next. I thought maybe I was just going to stay there a while, talk to someone, set up a treatment plan or something, and then I would get to go home. I was oblivious to what was coming. Anyhow, it didn’t take long for me to discover that I was being involuntarily commited. I wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon…