Patience K

I was in therapy after remembering that my sister had sexually assaulted me. In the weeks leading up to my suicide attempt, my therapist assured my mom that I was fine. My mom had even cried to my therapist because I had planned out my funeral. The day before my attempt, I had arguments with my mom, my sister, and several friends. Before bed, I went to talk to my mom. She became angry and yelled at me because she was busy helping my sister. As I walked away, I heard them whispering negatively about me. I felt hated. I had already written my suicide notes and decided to use pills. I researched which pills I had access to that could do the most damage. I took a box of over the counter medicine that had one ingredient in it that could be fatal in large enough doses. I swallowed all of the pills with several cups of water, even though I had never been able to swallow pills before. I then realized that I might experience pain from the reaction, so I also took a handful of Tylenol. I obviously was not thinking clearly. I turned off my television. I also turned off my ceiling fan, even though I had read online that too much dextromethorphan could make me hot. I fell asleep with my emotional support cat lying on my chest and meowing. Everything became quiet and dark. Then light suddenly flashed in, and I felt as though I was floating very quickly into Heaven. I was surrounded by a fuzzy, God-like brightness. I felt peaceful. I remembered my life. I felt slightly sad about everything I had gone through and about all the suffering that exists in the world. At the same time, I felt content with my life and my memories. I tried to look around as best I could. God's direct light was so bright that it blinded me. It was beautiful, although slightly overwhelming. For once, I felt completely loved and whole. Then God said, "It is not your time yet." His voice was firm and calm, but it was also filled with love and understanding. I felt as though He knew that I had great things ahead of me and that I still had much more to do on Earth. It did not feel like rejection. It felt like a promise. Just as I opened my mouth to respond, I felt a huge shove and began falling back toward Earth. I suddenly jolted awake sometime between midnight and 2:00 a.m. I was gasping for air, although I did not immediately sit up. Everything was blurry. I could have sworn that I saw a giant red crab or lobster on the television. The television was turned off. I was high from the medication. I tried to sit up. I felt pain everywhere and an immense sadness. I was sad to be back on Earth after having just been in such a beautiful place. Then I remember thinking, "OH SH%*." I got out of bed and stumbled into the walls as I tried to make my way to the living room couch. I remember gently sitting down, but apparently I threw myself onto the couch so hard that it woke my sister. My mom was outside smoking a cigarette. I yelled for her. She asked why I was awake and then asked if I was dying. I yelled, "Yes!" She became angry. I remember believing that she was still outside when I realized that if I did not get the pills out of my stomach, I was going to die. I put my fingers down my throat and vomited onto the floor in front of the couch. I was later told that my mother was already inside trying to talk to me, but I was not responding to her. She made me clean up my vomit. She then made me walk by myself to the car and drove me to the emergency room about five minutes away. My legs felt stiff, like concrete, but she made me walk into the hospital behind her. She also made me explain to the doctors what I had done. At the time, this reinforced my belief that she hated me. She later explained that she did not want to comfort me because she believed doing so might positively reinforce what I had done. As soon as they sat me down in the hospital room, I began feeling extremely hot. I could not sweat. I tried to take off my clothes and began vomiting profusely. Then a man stayed in the room to watch me. He told me that he worked in a different part of the hospital. He was a short, older Black doctor with the sweetest smile and an extremely calming presence. While I was still high from the medication, I called him my guardian angel. He smiled and jokingly shushed me. Later, I was transferred to a mental hospital. My legs remained stiff, and my urine smelled strongly like the medicine throughout my stay. After I was released, I wanted to thank the man who had stayed with me in the emergency room. My mom and I returned to the hospital with a thank-you note for the man I had called my guardian angel. The hospital staff told us that no man matching his name or description had ever worked in any part of the hospital. They also told us that no one had been assigned to stay in my room and watch me that night. Both my mom and I remembered the woman at the front desk telling us about him. To this day, I remember his sweet smile and calming presence.