My mouth almost goes numb when I say it. It is hard to fathom where I was a year ago compared to where I am today. I don’t have a lot of memories from that day and everything that is a reminder is erased. These are a few of the things I could find. I know that I was popping Halicon and Xanax chasing it with whiskey. I was in a “support group” on Facebook and those ladies were watching my downward spiral. I made several lives in the group one of which was me staring in a shower head and then there was the final curtain call. I was down to the last few pills in the bottle and I went live. I have no idea what I said but I know I ended it and passed out. I don’t know how long I was out for but the ladies in the group freaked out and started blowing my husbands phone up. I remember coming to when my husband came rushing home pissed at the entire situation. I realize now that he wasn’t just angry, he was terrified. If I never went live then I would probably be dead. He picked me up and threw me in the truck and took me back to work with him. I was passed out but the moments I came to were nothing but incoherent screaming. People have a lot of preconceived notions of overdosing. It isn’t always like what you see in the media. You can overdose not throw up, not have your stomach pumped and just go in and out of consciousness for hours. So now it is after 3:00 and we pick our daughter up from school and I’ve managed to slightly stabilize myself (in my mind) to have a really good shouting match with my husband. He sends our daughter outside while I’m screaming and swearing. (I didn’t eat anything that day and I had enough benzos in me to knock out a horse, I’m slightly intoxicated and I’m manic.) I have no idea what I yelled about, but I guarantee you it was nothing but slurred speech, half sentences and swearing lots of swearing. We got into a huge fight and he called my mother and kicked me out. I didn’t know if I was going back inpatient but I didn’t give a shit I just didn’t understand what was happening. The suicide attempt to me wasn’t a big deal it wasn’t my first time and me abusing Benzos also a norm for me. He took my phone and wouldn’t let me have it. I wasn’t allowed on social media or to talk to about it to anyone who wasn’t involved or aware what was going on. I found out later he did this to keep me from going inpatient unless he felt like I needed to. I slept on a mattress in my moms living room for 3 days. The first night I passed out and felt like shit when I woke up. I was so hungover blinking hurt and detoxing was torture. My marriage almost ended and I have forever traumatized my daughter from the ordeal. We forget sometimes that our actions can kill the people around us even if they don’t kill us. This doesn’t mean that I won’t ever get bad again and I won’t deal with suicidal thoughts. It just means that I’m finally at a place where I can get help the right way.