Honesty. For my entire life up until this point, I haven’t been honest. Not with myself. Not with those around me. It’s time for that to change.

Three weeks ago my psychiatrist decreased my Cymbalta (an anti-depressant for my bipolar disorder). Since then I have been in a downward spiral of deep depression that ended in a suicide attempt on Monday morning.

My dad has been receiving chemotherapy and radiation for his brain cancer. He gets his treatment out of town, so I offered to dog-sit for him for this week, Monday to Friday. I told him (and myself) that it would be like a mini vacation for me, to get away for a few days and play with the dogs in a calmer environment (my house was a disaster zone at this point and Dan was supposed to be starting classes this week). I knew deep down what I planned to do, but I hid it from everyone and went anyways.

As soon as they left I took an overdose of sleeping pills and over the counter DXM medication. It was a suicide attempt. I talked to my sponsor through email but I didn’t tell her how bad things were. I didn’t call anybody. I waited to die.

I began to get higher and higher to the point where things got scary. I started to see a white light and I knew I could feel foam building up in the back of my throat. I knew I was about to have seizure or a heart attack. I was terrified. Suddenly I wanted to live, more than anything in the world. For the first time, it wasn’t just for Dan, or my dog, or my mom or dad. It was for me. I needed to live. I wanted a future for the first time in a long time, years and years.

I called an ambulance and was taken to the hospital. There I spent a night in the crisis unit and was then sent to see my psychiatrist and counsellor. For the first time in my entire life, I told everyone the entire truth about my addiction. My mom, my dad and step-mom, Dan, my doctors. We decided that it’s best if I get referred to a treatment facility where I can learn to live a normal life without the use of drugs or anything else to numb my emotions.

I want to live right now. More than anything in the world. And I want to live for me. So that’s where I’m at right now. I’m alive and so very grateful for that, and for the support of ll of my friends and family who are helping me through this greatly terrible time in my life.

I know I have to get better, now or never. If I don’t, I won’t make it another day. If I pick up using even one more time, it WILL be the death of me. So I’m working my ass off to fix this mess of a life I’m living. How? I’m speaking to my councilor and sponsors every single day. I’m going to daily meetings. I’m telling everyone everything because I can’t stand to leave something out and that be the reason I end up dying. I’m getting into a treatment program. I’m playing with my dog, and listening to music, and taking care of my hygiene and my mental health for the first time in about a year.

For the past three weeks especially, just showering and brushing my teeth were chores that I rarely accomplished in my daily routine. I slept and ate way too much, or not at all. Now I’m finding the balance in all of these things. Thats what I’ve been working on these last few days, and what I am going to continue to do for the rest of my life if I want to survive. And I do want to survive.