Dealing with Loss

When I took the pills I called my best friend. I left her a message. She called me back while I was on the phone with another person, M.

I told my best friend what I had done, how I had ingested a bottle of pills, and how I was driving home, and how I wanted to die. She fails to realize how when I told her I didn't want to be found, I meant I really didn't want to be found. Yes, I was in the process of taking my own life. No, I didn't want to live any more.

I honestly don't know if I want to, but I lack the means to make that happen, so I guess I have to go on for a while longer. Maybe tomorrow. I don't know. Maybe in the time it takes to figure it out, I'll change my mind. Right now, I am just holding on for a phone call. Maybe I'll forever be holding out for a phone call.

Maybe, just maybe, that hearing from someone is all that has kept me going for the last 32 years.

Perhaps I do need to be on drugs. Maybe I need something that will control the anxiety, because that seems to be what always triggers me to doing stupid things that lead to me feeling like absolute shit.

I got a facebook email from best friend telling me

We have been friends for too long -- too long to remember, too long to count the years, and as I've realized over the last couple of days, too loo long for our good.

You called me to tell me you had ingested a bottle of pills. I was 2200 miles away -- there was almost nothing I could do. In fact, if Stepmother was not a 911 operator, all I would have done was panicked for hours knowing there was nothing I could do but listen to my best friend fade away. Do you realize the impact that has a person? I bet you don't. (As it was, I think you should know that there were cops and 911 operators in 3 counties looking for you.) 

But, you did call me. And, I listened to you. I listened to you talking about being alone -- believe me, I empathize. More than you know (although, if you ever actually listened to me, you would know.) I listened to you tell me that you were in your car somewhere. Most importantly, I listened to your voice get more groggy, more slurred, your words coming more slowly. 

Then, I listened to the police knock on your door. And heard your voice again -- normal, almost to the level of cheery. I listened to you tell the police that you had only had 5 vicodin. 

And I read the text message. "You lied to me." Well, AnxiousGirl, you lied, too. While I was trying to save my best friend's life, she was manipulating me. I do not know, and will likely never know if you lied to me or the police -- did you take a bottle of vicodin? Or did you take 5? 

I could forgive you lying to the police. I could never forgive you lying to me, not while I was 2200 miles away, while I could do nothing, while I cried on the bus trying to figure out how the hell I could possibly get back home for somebody who needed me.

And now, I am finding that I also cannot forgive not knowing which was reality. Not being able to give you the benefit of the doubt. That tells me everything I need to know about this friendship. 

This is goodbye, AnxiousGirl.
Bestfriend

So adding to the losses that I have had, now I am coping with the lost of my oldest friendship.

I called for the partial hospitalization program at Local Hospital today, where you go in the morning for intense therapy, then go home after.  The intake woman told me that even though I was told I could go to work after therapy, that they don't want me to. I don't understand how people can be working, but not have insurance, and be able to take care of themselves mentally. I will likely be denied the program, and I will go back to what I have been doing. Waiting for the phone to ring so I can save myself for another day.