Today marks exactly eight weeks since I tried to kill myself, and it already seems like it happened in a different lifetime. I figured it was a good time to take an eight week life inventory.
Eight Weeks Ago: Heading to the ER after not having taken my insulin in two days
Now: Heading to boyfriend’s house to watch Superbowl (commercials) after not having eaten in two hours
Eight Weeks Ago: Called National Suicide Prevention Lifeline
Now: Called US Masters Swimming and renewed membership for 2017
Eight Weeks Ago: Sixteen tattoos
Now: Twenty tattoos
Eight Weeks Ago: Dating life – unsustainable due to severe depression
Now: Dating life – boyfriend, stable, happy
Eight Weeks Ago: No car, no money
Now: Great car paid for outright, no car payment, credit card debt paid in full
Eight Weeks Ago: Taking one psych medication that did not work for shit
Now: Taking five psych meds that provide functionality; learned that previous psych medication cannot be metabolized by my body
Eight Weeks Ago: Almost completely isolated, by choice
Now: Surrounded by people and love, by choice
Eight Weeks Ago: Stayed in apartment to escape from real life
Now: Only stays in apartment to sleep and do laundry, otherwise out and with people
It’s fair to say that eight weeks ago I didn’t think I would be here today. I wouldn’t have believed you if you had told me that I would not only still be alive, but I would be fighting harder for myself than I ever have before; that I would find more love and support than I have ever let myself feel before; that I would be slowly but surely making my own dreams come true.
There is no moral to this story. I’m not going to say that I shouldn’t have tried to kill myself two months ago. At every point in my struggle I made the very best choices that I could at that given moment. Past Allison Anarchy will always have my retroactive support and validation.