Mouthful of Koryn

March 20th, 2020, I made a decision that changed my life tremendously. I didn’t choose that day, but it happened. 

I chose to end my life. 

I woke up that morning, it had been known that I didn’t want to be alive anymore. I turned off my phone. 

I wasn’t myself for months, and no one noticed. 

It was in my head that no one was going to be able to help me this time. This was something I needed to do. 

I’ve always thought people’s lives were always better off without me. I didn’t want to be a burden anymore.

I’ve held onto this feeling, for as long as I can remember. 

It was my time to go. 

______________________

I had just left my friend’s house, I was on my way home.

I wasn’t even crying.

I decided to make a left, instead of a right; and there I was, in the pharmacy parking lot.

I walked inside, over to the counter and bought a water bottle, and acetaminophen. 500mg per caplet, it says not to take more than 4,000mg in 24 hours. I took 15 caplets. That is 7,500mg. 

I drove home.

It was so quiet, no one heard me come in.

It started to get cold, and I was becoming very tired. 

My mom found me.

She kept yelling at me, I remember. She put her fingers on my wrist, and called the hospital. 

She kept asking me how I felt, all I could say was I was tired, and she told me to please, not close my eyes.

She carried me into her car, she screamed at everyone we passed to move out of the way, and she kept tapping her steering wheel every time we would hit a red light. 

We got to the hospital, she carried me inside and they put me in a wheelchair. I was pushed to the back and given my bracelet. They kept asking me questions but all I could think of was that I just wanted to go to sleep.

They laid me in a hospital bed, in a room with a wall made out of glass, and assigned a nurse to watch me from the outside. Another nurse came in and took my blood, but left the catheter there. She brought me scrubs and socks and walked me to the bathroom.

She helped me pee into a cup, and then helped me change, my arm was bruised from the catheter and her bending my arm through my sweater. They took everything, from my phone to shoes, to my bra and underwear. This was around noon.

I came back to the room, and a nurse was in there squeezing two tubes of charcoal into styrofoam cups. I had to drink every bit of it.

It took me four hours to finish, and for those four hours I was by myself locked in this room, while someone stared at me.

They wouldn’t even give me water to wash my mouth out.

After I finished, a CPS worker came in, she told me my mom had left and went home the moment they took me. She told me my mom wanted me to go away.

I cried. That’s all I did,

I cried. 

I couldn’t do anything right, I couldn’t even kill myself. 

______________________

I talked to the CPS worker for a bit, she told me she’d be right back but I ended up falling asleep. I didn’t realize two hours had passed.

The CPS worker came back and woke me up, she asked me what I wanted to do.

I was 18, and when you’re 18 you’re an adult. You can’t be admitted by force unless they believe you are a danger to yourself, or anyone else. 

“I want to go home. I know what’s best for me, and if you send me away, I will hate myself more. I will go to therapy, I will take medication. But whatever you do, please, do not send me away.” 

She told me she’ll talk to my doctor. I was alone again for another hour. 

It’s 7p.m.

She came back with paperwork, and told me my doctor said I’m being discharged as long as my tests come back negative for poisoning, after drinking the charcoal. 

I didn’t get discharged until around 10p.m. 

They gave me my belongings back and told me to call someone to come pick me up. I didn’t even know who to call.

After about ten minutes I decided to just call my mom, I had to beg her to come get me. I sat there until a security guard came and walked me out to her. I was still in my scrubs and socks. He opened the doors for me, and there she was. 

Standing there, staring at me. I walked up to her, and I hugged her. All I could say was I was so sorry.

We cried in each other’s arms. 

______________________

The following Monday, I had an appointment to set up IOP therapy. IOP stands for Intensive Outpatient Program, which is group therapy at the hospital. Group is every Monday, Wednesday and Thursday from 9a.m. to 12p.m. It’s an 8 week program. And it was required. If I didn’t go, I would be sent to Aurora Mental Facility for up to a year.

It was an “either, or” situation.

The IOP program is $300 per session, 24 sessions, which is roughly $7,200 I do not have, and that’s with insurance. We told my therapist we couldn’t afford it, so she gave me a free session to go to that Thursday to see if it was worth putting forth all of that money.

I did, I loved it.

But I couldn’t pay for it.

______________________

That Thursday morning, she took me downstairs to the registration area after group and helped me sign up for AHCCCS, known as Access Insurance for Health. She said it would cover for therapy so I would be able to go.

It took me three weeks to get approved. That’s 3/8 sessions gone.

That Monday morning, before I had left for group, I got a phone call. I was told to call AHCCCS to make sure it covers. After making me wait for three weeks to get approved, when my therapist was sure it would.

I did. They said no. It was an absolute train wreck. 

I just wanted some fucking help.

______________________

I got a call from my therapist again and she asked why I hadn’t come to the following sessions, and I told her it was because neither one of the insurances I have covered the cost, she told me she would call me back to let me know if I would be able to come to future appointments.

A week went by. 4/8, we’re at half.

I finally got a call back, and she told me she was sorry, and I will not be able to attend any other sessions. I only was able to go to the one.

I tried to tell myself one was better than none. But was it? 

I asked if there were any free support groups, and I was told there was, but only for A.A. and grief. The world wonders why suicide rates are so high. They wonder why people never ask for help. 

I CAN’T AFFORD TO NOT WANT TO KILL MYSELF.

Read that again.

______________________

After a month having gone by, I got a bill from the hospital regarding my incident. 

$14,000. 

$14,000, and for what? For making me drink charcoal? For the therapy I can’t go to? 

And no, asking for an itemized bill did not work. 

I wanted to kill myself even more. 

I felt like the one time I was really trying to receive help, I couldn’t. I felt helpless.

I felt trapped.

______________________

I am the reason I am alive. A drive to the hospital may have saved me physically, but I am the reason I am still here. No one else

______________________

No number of explanations can make anyone understand why I did what I did.

Most do not see my battle, so they don’t know what it cost for me to get where I am. Or was.

A lot of terrible things have happened to me throughout my lifetime. Things still are. Things I’m not ready to speak of yet. 

But what I am ready for, is to spread awareness. To heal, not only myself. But others.

But I couldn’t heal because I kept pretending I wasn’t hurt.

If you cut your arm, you’d get stitches, right?

Yet I chose to walk around with my heart cut wide open.

I was not prepared for how lonely healing and growth can be. It’s like climbing a mountain and every few steps there’s less and less people on the journey with you. The closer you get to the top, the more proud you feel; but then you look back and wonder if anyone will ever join you. 

The scariest moment is always just before you start. But running from healing is just running from your purpose. 

______________________

I spent so long not knowing myself, I can’t believe anyone else ever knew me either. 

What I do know, is my path is more difficult because my calling is higher.

It’s not personal, It’s just not in alignment. 

Regret will always show it’s face when we are hurting, but it won’t heal you. It will encourage us to remain stuck in the past to dwell. We cannot control others or circumstances, we can only control our responses.

We define ourselves far too often by our past failures, that’s not you.

The past is…

There’s nothing you can do about it, so

It’s just baggage.

You let it go, you feel a lot lighter.

Until we forgive ourselves, we keep sabotaging ourselves. Healing requires seeing ourselves with grace, and compassion. We are capable of more than our worst moments. It’s not what they call you, it’s what you answer to.