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Authors: Landon Sessions
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just couldn’t get out of this state. I found myself unable to sleep. In my dorm room at school I had a rocking chair, and I would sit in it all night crying for seven or eight day’s straight. Then I would crash, and I would do it all over again. I’d stay up all night, and people at school got really worried. I wasn’t eating, and I was basically living and functioning on coffee. I also started doing more drugs. For instance, on the weekends I would go with people to New York City, and I would party the whole time.
Then a switch had been flipped inside of me. I wasn’t just sad anymore ; it was really, really bad . I don’t know how to explain it. While, I was sad in my childhood at times, now something had completely flipped. I wasn’t just sad; rather it was I couldn’t live my life any more. To cope I started cutting myself. Then, the school figured everything out, because I stopped going to class. So the school called my parents, and said, you have to take your daughter home. This was Thanksgiving of 1995.
Once I got home my parents said to the school, “No she’s fine. There’s nothing wrong with here. Kids get sad, and it’s not that big of deal.” And my parents sent me back to school. Back at school I was cutting, doing drugs, not eating, not sleeping. Then my parents found out about all of my negative behavior, and then they thought maybe she is sick.
I came home just before Christmas and I couldn’t stop crying. Then, I started to hallucinate about a man with a plastic bag over his face that would chase me all over the house. I don’t know if he was white or black or brown.
I couldn’t sleep still, and I continued to get worse. I wasn’t doing any drugs because I couldn’t leave the house. By this I mean, I physically could not walk outside of the house for fear of something, anything. I feared something would come to get me, and kill me. I began to experience suicidal ideations. I wanted to kill myself ever waking minute of the day. I would dream about putting my head the oven like Sylvia Plath. Or slicing my wrist open and laying in the bathtub with candles everywhere.
I believe I went to five institutions from the time I was fifteen until the time I was eighteen. During this time I didn’t leave the house. I didn’t go to school. I pretty much just laid up in a ball. I wasn’t able to cope with anything. When I was about six-teen my parents found me a psychiatrist, and this particular psychiatrist said he would do the therapy for me as well.
Then I tried to kill myself -- BIG. While in the past I had I made little attempts here and there at killing myself but it had not been serious. I was six-teen years old. One day my mom said I have to go to a meeting about two hours away. Immediately I thought this is my chance to kill myself. As soon as I knew she was going, I knew this was going to be my opportunity to kill myself, and I got happy. I mean really, really happy for the first time in a long time. I was giddy almost. My dad said to me “I’m supposed to have a tennis match today, do you mind if I go?” I told him “Go, go. I’m fine. Everything is fine.” So he left.
Nobody was home but me. My parents had locked the medicine in a wooden cabinet, and I took a hammer and destroyed it. I took whatever medications I could find. The only thing that I didn’t take was Tylenol. The reason I didn’t take Tylenol was because I remember seeing a girl on TV. once who was deaf. She was deaf because when she was a kid she took a whole bottle of Tylenol. So I thought I’m not going to take Tylenol, because if I don’t die I don’t want to be deaf.
I took mainly prescription drugs and I took a whole bottle of sleeping pills. This is kind of embarrassing but I took all the medication, and lined all of the pills on the dining room table. I think I spelled something out, but I don’t know. I took three hundred and fifty pills with a fifth of vodka very quick.
I went and laid down in my
Then a switch had been flipped inside of me. I wasn’t just sad anymore ; it was really, really bad . I don’t know how to explain it. While, I was sad in my childhood at times, now something had completely flipped. I wasn’t just sad; rather it was I couldn’t live my life any more. To cope I started cutting myself. Then, the school figured everything out, because I stopped going to class. So the school called my parents, and said, you have to take your daughter home. This was Thanksgiving of 1995.
Once I got home my parents said to the school, “No she’s fine. There’s nothing wrong with here. Kids get sad, and it’s not that big of deal.” And my parents sent me back to school. Back at school I was cutting, doing drugs, not eating, not sleeping. Then my parents found out about all of my negative behavior, and then they thought maybe she is sick.
I came home just before Christmas and I couldn’t stop crying. Then, I started to hallucinate about a man with a plastic bag over his face that would chase me all over the house. I don’t know if he was white or black or brown.
I couldn’t sleep still, and I continued to get worse. I wasn’t doing any drugs because I couldn’t leave the house. By this I mean, I physically could not walk outside of the house for fear of something, anything. I feared something would come to get me, and kill me. I began to experience suicidal ideations. I wanted to kill myself ever waking minute of the day. I would dream about putting my head the oven like Sylvia Plath. Or slicing my wrist open and laying in the bathtub with candles everywhere.
I believe I went to five institutions from the time I was fifteen until the time I was eighteen. During this time I didn’t leave the house. I didn’t go to school. I pretty much just laid up in a ball. I wasn’t able to cope with anything. When I was about six-teen my parents found me a psychiatrist, and this particular psychiatrist said he would do the therapy for me as well.
Then I tried to kill myself -- BIG. While in the past I had I made little attempts here and there at killing myself but it had not been serious. I was six-teen years old. One day my mom said I have to go to a meeting about two hours away. Immediately I thought this is my chance to kill myself. As soon as I knew she was going, I knew this was going to be my opportunity to kill myself, and I got happy. I mean really, really happy for the first time in a long time. I was giddy almost. My dad said to me “I’m supposed to have a tennis match today, do you mind if I go?” I told him “Go, go. I’m fine. Everything is fine.” So he left.
Nobody was home but me. My parents had locked the medicine in a wooden cabinet, and I took a hammer and destroyed it. I took whatever medications I could find. The only thing that I didn’t take was Tylenol. The reason I didn’t take Tylenol was because I remember seeing a girl on TV. once who was deaf. She was deaf because when she was a kid she took a whole bottle of Tylenol. So I thought I’m not going to take Tylenol, because if I don’t die I don’t want to be deaf.
I took mainly prescription drugs and I took a whole bottle of sleeping pills. This is kind of embarrassing but I took all the medication, and lined all of the pills on the dining room table. I think I spelled something out, but I don’t know. I took three hundred and fifty pills with a fifth of vodka very quick.
I went and laid down in my
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