YUHBOY

Hard to believe this post was 3 years ago. My first suicide attempt led me to be institutionalized and it was probably the scariest thing I’ve ever had to go through. I remember waking up in the middle of the night one day and crying harder than I had ever cried, I don’t really remember what it was about this specific day but at some point throughout the thought came into my head that this was finally it.

I wrote a letter to my family and texted the girl I loved a huge apology. This was all going on during the worst drug binge I had ever been on. I took one last shower idk why but I did, I sat down on my couch and really reflected on everything I could for as long as I could but in a moments notice I realized that I didn’t really want to overthink the whole situation so I gathered about 12 or 14 norcos in my hand and just swallowed them whole. I continued to do so til there wasn’t anything left of the 2 bottles I had gotten my hands on. I remember going in for the last handful and feeling some sort of relief.

And just like that I leaned back and could feel my head get lighter and lighter and I as I got higher all I could remember is crying. Even in the moments I had hoped to be my last I felt inadequate. There was no peace, there was no instance where this all made sense to me, I found nothing. This was everything I had allowed to eat away at me taking all control and I just sat there crying because it was the worst realization I had ever made.

Eventually I blacked out and I guess my mother found me with puke coming out my mouth. I was still a bit coherent but everything was so fucking hazy. I don’t really know how my mom did it but she got me into her car and drove me to the hospital where she worked at (and ironically the one I was born at.) It was about 5am and I remember seeing rain fall down on a world that wasn’t quite awake yet out the car window as I came in and out of this horrible state I was in, my mom kept shaking me to stay awake.

When I got to the hospital I was in a drug induced frenzy, I tried to fight staff and police cuz they wanted to strip me (staff even stole my phone charger but I don’t blame them) Eventually I was put into an er room. Too much time had gone by and they said they couldn’t pump my stomach, so I had to wait out the worst high of my life. I spent about 9 hours vomiting, crying with my parents, and slipping in and out of consciousness cuz I was not allowed to fall asleep under any circumstances in case I didn’t wake back up.  This was it, this was my defeat, nothing after this would be the same whether I lived or died, everything would change.  

All I really remember was thinking about my siblings and my late grandmother. My siblings and my parents are everything to me and all I felt was shame. More shame than I’ve ever felt in my life. I had to start training for a new job that week and all I remember thinking is “What do I tell them?” “Does the rest of my family know?” “How do I explain this to anyone?” I was at the lowest I had ever been in my life and I thought no one could understand.  

The whole 9 hours I was in the er I wasn’t allowed water for fear of choking to death. I vomited the entire time and cried more than I had ever in my 19 years of living, I confessed my feelings to my parents and everything I had felt up to that point, I told them I had been depressed since I was a child and how I was hiding this drug problem from them, and they both just kept telling me they loved me and that everything was gonna be ok.  

I really didn’t have a choice when it came to being put in the psych ward, my parents really pushed it and I didn’t really know what to do in this situation. I signed a dotted line and hugged my mom and dad like it was the last time I was gonna see them. I was stripped searched one last time and taken to a room with the clothes I arrived in.  

I remember sleeping most of the time when I first got there. My roommate was a rich kid like two years older than me with a history of drug abuse and destruction of property. His name was Michael and he was there as part of court-sentenced rehabilitation, he had taken abunch of xanax and crashed his rich dads car into a building. He was kinda scary and read the bible all the time in order to “get right with god.” He even stole one of my tshirts by proclaiming to me one morning “This is mine now Eli.” We had planned to stay in contact when I got out but that never happened. Most nights we’d talk til one of us passed out, when you’re put into a setting like that it really changes alot of things, I feel like he knew me better than most people know me now. I hope he’s doing ok where ever he is, I hope he’s better cuz he atleast deserves that.  

I actually made friends in there and they helped me out more than any of the therapy or group activities. Our lunch table consisted of me, this man Mark that was an alcoholic and decorated college professor with 4 kids, grandkids and a girlfriend, he attempted to hang himself from his bedroom window and ended up falling 3 stories and breaking his arm, this was his 6th stay in a mental institution. There was Greg, a theater actor that was down on his luck, he never told me how he tried to do it but that didn’t matter, he had struggled with depression since he was a teenager and by the end of his stay he was really stoked on getting this part in a play. There was another Michael he was also my age, he was in there cuz he almost drank himself to death and received alcohol poisoning, he had been away at college when it happened and his family thought it’d be good for him to check himself in before going to rehab, we talked about death metal and videogames all the time and he was the only one that ever wanted to take walks with me. Finally there was Dave, he was a terminal cancer patient with a degree in architecture, he had two kids and a wife, he slashed his arms with a kitchen knife, he was usually on bed rest but he was the only one that was ever up as early as I was and we were always the first ones up for breakfast, I think I helped him more than he helped me. These men helped me out so much, especially Mark, I couldn’t believe such a smart and experienced person could feel the way I did, he was the first person that really taught me about coping with depression and he just taught me so much about regular life stuff and I’m forever grateful for that, I had tried to contact him when I was out but could never get a hold of him. I hope he didn’t die, that’s my biggest fear. I hope no one died, I hope they’re all still here. It’s horrible to think like that but it’s hard not to.  

While I was in there I got regular visits from friends and the girl I was in love with, she even made out with me once in there and some staff saw and scolded me but I just thought it was funny. Seeing her was the one thing I looked forward to the most cuz she came everyday and I would literally count down the minutes and hours til she arrived and I couldn’t help but get super stoked everytime, I was really in love. Visits helped me alot since I had no means of contact with the outside world. I remember writing letters to my mom and dad and said girl. I would draw alot and write alot and I even read some books which I never do. One thing I couldn’t do was listen to music and that was probably the most annoying thing ever. I watched movies everyday too with my roommate and we even started a “movie time” in the wreck room, I remember watching A Bronx Tale one day and 2 ladies were really offended cuz they swore alot, we didn’t care though.  

I was in there for about 8 or 9 days until I was discharged on short notice. My aunt Maggie had lost her fight with diabetes and had passed away while I was in there. She was the only one that ever came to my shows and she was my mom’s best friend, she was a wonderful person and I loved her alot, it just made my situation worse losing her. The hospital let me out early so I could attend her funeral. I was diagnosed with dysthymia and prescribed anti-depressants and handed a 2,000 dollar medical bill and sent on my way.  

It was all surreal, the day i got out my mom picked me up and we headed home to pack since we were headed to Wisconsin to bury my aunt on her tribes’ reservation, I brought my girl too. We were off to Wisconsin, here I was not even 12 hours out and on my way to send off my beloved aunt, I didn’t know how to feel, everyting was happening so fast. The funeral actually wasn’t sad, of course my family and i cried but it was a very beautiful native american ceremony. There was dancing and a huge bonfire and a feast and we told stories about Maggie, it lasted 2 days, there was a ton of my family and none of them knew what I had just been through so i had to just pretend like I was ok, but either way it wouldn’t really be appropriate to talk about that shit there. The only person that knew was my uncle who’s wife we were burying, I remember him hugging me and telling me he loved me and I just held him and told him I loved him too, I felt like a jackass cuz he already had enough going on. We burried my aunt next to her mother one morning and I put a rose on her casket. Death is a very real thing and I had been face to face with it and this whole experience was insane.  

We stayed the whole weekend on this beautiful reservation and I remember just being with my girl and feeling lucky to be alive. It was like some straight up movie shit, I remember one night I was just hanging out with her in front of this lake and just kissing her and it was dark and we were in the middle of all this scenery and the whole time the weather was gloomy since it was fall and it was cold but I didn’t care I just kissed her and told her I loved her, it was intense.  

When I was back home I got back into the groove of things and began to live life again cuz I didn’t really wanna think about all I had been through for a bit. I remember talking to friends and family members about it, some conversations were more sincere than others. When you almost die everyone loves you.  

Depression is a very serious thing. It doesn’t take a break, it can take over anyone, your mother, your girlfriend, your boss, your teacher, no one is really in the clear. Depression is a monster that eats away at alot of us and some of us don’t make it out in one piece. If you ever feel like you’re going through something, please don’t do it alone, even if you feel like you are, you’re not. It took a drug overdose for me to realize that and it shouldn’t have been that way. Feeling like shit about yourself is completely normal, we’re literally the most complex organisms on this planet with even more complex feelings and ideas, it’s perfectly alright to feel down sometimes, it’s completely natural. I’m just saying you should never feel like you need to hide the way you’re feeling and you should never be scared of reaching out to someone, we all have people that care about us and if they’re all real, they’ll definitely understand. Don’t wait until it’s too late like I did. Don’t wake up one morning after bottling everything up and make a decision you can’t take back. Don’t break your mother’s heart. Don’t let this take you. You are more than this and you deserve more, you owe it to yourself. Love yourself and let the love of others guide you down this dark path, it’s the only way.  

Three years have gone by. Three years. I still struggle everyday with these thoughts in my head and some days are harder than others. Sometimes I feel like giving up and making everything go away. Three years have gone by and I don’t do drugs anymore, I’ve had my moments of weakness but I never went back to that shit. Three years have gone by and the friends I had back then are still here, and I love them with all my heart. Three years have gone by and some friends have parted ways with me but I love them too. Three years have gone by and the girl I wrote those letters to burned them all. Three years have gone by and I attempted suicide again. Three years have gone by, I’ve made some progress and had some setbacks. Three years have gone by and I’ve fucked up alot of things in my life. Three years have gone by and I’ve hurt some people and have been hurt myself. Three years have gone by and I’ve done some cool shit. Three years have gone by and music has always been there for me. Three years have gone by and my relationship with my parents is better. Three years have gone by and alot has changed. Three years have gone by and I’m happy I’m still here.  Three years have gone by and I hope if you’re reading this and you struggle with something similar I want you to know that it’s not gonna get better right away, this horrible feeling will probably never leave you but goddamnit you are strong and you are amazing and life is amazing and there’s so much of it you gotta see. And when it’s all said and done you will be more than this.