Christmas Eve ended up being incredibly tough for me.
After plugging away and getting through the day I started feeling incredibly sad that I was going to be alone on Christmas. Incredibly sad that I was too sick to go home. Just, incredibly sad.
Around two I checked the bus schedule to see if I could get up north to see my dad. It was too late.
I started drinking at 4. By six I was sad and drunk - not a good combination for me.
I didn't want to do it, but I took sleeping pills, too many sleeping pills. I called our crisis line and they sent down an ambulance and a few police officers who specialize in mental health.
I got in and out very quickly.
I don't remember much. I remember asking the paramedic why so many people were there. I remember telling someone I didn't want to see psych. I remember drinking an orange ensure (which tasted like a creamscicle).
I don't remember sending the incoherent messages to my boyfriend. I don't remember getting to and from the hospital. I don't remember taking a picture of my IV and posting it on instagram.
The scary thing, is that slip up is making it so much more tempting to go back and OD again. But I know I can't do that. I need to surround myself with love and support. I can't let this depression win.
So, to the crisis workers that worked Christmas Eve, thank you for keeping me safe.