May 19th 2007 was my try at it. I dont thinkI have ever in my life felt as hopeless asI did that day. Anyone here will tell you, I am the poster child for relapse and pride preventing me from recovery. But i always try asnyway. I stopped that day.
I wontgo into the gorey details because it was pretty bad. But had I not been found for another 15 mins I would not be here. My uncle cleaned up the horror movie seen in my house. Lots of blood. I was really goin for it.
I woke up 3 days later strapped to a hospital bed but grateful I did. The only thing I remmeber about any of it, was the reaction and looks on my family's faces and especially my grams when they found me. I remember nothing else. Why do you think that is? I think to show me that it affects more than me.
Please get help. There is no comin back from that.