Irritated
I'm irritated. I don't really like texting all day long. Texting is so different when you are still getting to know a person. You have things to talk about, questions to ask, secrets to tell. It's not like that when you know pretty much everything about someone. It's just basically a play by play of what they're doing. I. Can. Not. Stand. That. If I'm not with you, I'm probably not going to understand what you're talking about. I'm not seeing what you see, hearing what you hear, and I can't read your mind either. It's not a fun experience to have to constantly check your phone because someone is mindlessly sending you text after text. It's especially annoying when I reply with one word answers that almost any genius could figure out are apathetic. I don't feel like to have a connection with someone you have to tell them every little detail of what you're doing. It drives me insane.
I also really hate it when I try to talk to my mother about things I want to do or things I'm thinking and she doesn't care at all. What makes me more upset is that she's done it for 25 years and I can't get it through my head that she isn't going to care. She never has, so why would she start now? I don't mean that my mom doesn't care about me, but she doesn't like to talk to me. Whatever she's really feeling or thinking, she won't share. She doesn't like to be real with other people. It's a bad quality that I have unfortunately inherited. I've learned from her to clam up and bury things when I'm confronted. It's very frustrating because it's very hard to realize I'm doing it and change the behavior.
I do a lot of stupid things. I don't know what causes me to do them. I just...do. I can't seem to finish anything I start. I'm having a hard time finishing this entry because I just want to do something else. Is it my attention span? Do I just not care? I don't know. I get tired and I get stressed and just stop. Maybe I'm afraid of actually succeeding at something. About a month ago, I had a lot going for me. I had a great job that I didn't have to have a degree for, I was on a schedule, I was cast in a play, and I was really happy. But then things started getting hard. I felt very tired and stressed and like I didn't have time to do things I needed to. I missed some work. And I lost my job. And now I am in another rut. This has happened to me so many times in my life and I don't know how to fix it. It's like my life is stuck on repeat on a really bad song that I can't get out of.
About three days after I was fired, I randomly decided to take 40 benadryl. It was the worst experience of my life. I had to listen to my brother and my mom scream at me as I tried to make myself vomit up the pills. I had to sit in silence as my mom drove me to the emergency room. She wouldn't even look at me. Even when we got to the hospital, she just looked straight forward. By the time they called me back, I couldn't walk. I could barely stand. I remember I was trying to text someone and I couldn't remember what I was trying to type. Even with the text in front of me. I remember trying to hit the backspace button on my phone and not being able to get my thumb on it and making more and more typos. I remember them putting me in the wheelchair and taking my vitals. They kept asking me questions and looking at me condescendingly. If I wasn't so out of it I probably would have been upset about it.
They wheeled me to the ER and I laid on a gurney for a little while. They took my blood and stuck two IVs into my arms. Then they decided they were going to put a catheter in me. I told them no. All they said was, "Doctor's orders." I got really upset. Shouldn't I be allowed to deny a catheter? It's not like I was telling them not to take care of me. I was in enough control not to pee on myself. For goodness sakes. Give me a break. That was awful. It was so strange what was going through my mind though. I had rehearsal for a play that night. The stage manager texted me when I was late and asked me if I knew about rehearsal. I was in such denial about what was going on that I started to text her back telling her I would be late, but I would be there. Luckily that text didn't go through.
My dad got there at some point, I don't really remember when. I started to get really tired and didn't want to be awake anymore. I remember him coming to sit beside me and his eyes were really red like he had been crying. It broke my heart. I couldn't keep my eyes open though. The benadryl had really hit me hard and I had to fight my body to stay awake. When I looked at him again, he had his eyes closed like he was praying for me. Again with the heart break. I love my dad more than anything. He is the best man I've ever known and I respect him more than anything. To see him in that much pain was more than I could take.
I can't tell you how much time passed, but at some point the nurse came in and told my mom they were going to pump my stomach. This is where things got really bad for me. Because unlike some people who have overdosed, I was conscious. I was a little out of it, but I remember everything that happened. I remember all the needle sticks and how many times they had to try to find a vein for my IVs. But what I remember most is the tube. They had to shove a two foot tube down my nose and into my stomach. It hurt. And then they pumped the tube full of charcoal. I remember how cold and clammy it felt in my stomach. I started to throw up a little. Do you know how hard it is to throw up when you have a tube stuck down the back of your throat? It was awful. After I don't know how long, they finally stopped with the charcoal. But the tube stayed. It stayed for about an hour. My mouth started to get really dry and I started to feel very nauseated. I kept swallowing to try to keep down the vomit that I felt was trying to coming up. Everytime I did, my tonsils would push back against the plastic tube. Then that started to hurt. I finally started complaining about it and they decided it was ok to take it out.
I watched my dad as they pulled it out. He couldn't believe it. I couldn't either. I don't know which hurt worse, having it put it or taken out. But the tube was out. After all that, I had to endure a lot of embarrassment after the charcoal started making me really sick. They were giving me a hard time about going to the bathroom because my heart rate was up really high. They didn't want me getting up and down. But I finally just told them that I was getting up to go to the bathroom. I wasn't using one of the stupid little bedside toilets. That's gross. Several trips back and forth from the bathroom later, I was finally taken to my own room. I was relieved. I was hoping that soon it would be over and I could go back home. Unfortunately for me, it doesn't work that way. I was hoping I could just go to sleep, but I was to have several more bathroom trips before the night was over. What made it so bad was that I had to have a nurse come every time to unhook me from all the machines before I could get up. It was like a public announcement that I had to poop. Sorry if that's gross, but it's what happened. Charcoal is a crazy laxative.
Anyway, my parents eventually left. I slept when I could and when I was waiting to go to the bathroom I watched tv. At about midnight, I was finally getting settled down. And then here comes the lab tech to take my blood. Usually I don't really care, but I know that they had busted my veins up pretty well back in the ER. They had to take blood from a vein in my hand. Not fun. When that one left, I was able to get a bit of sleep. When 3 am rolled around another one came to take more blood. It's like an easter egg hunt for my veins. After that, I was able to sleep a little more soundlessly. At about nine they brought me breakfast that I tried to eat. I think I ate a mini biscuit and a piece of bacon.
This is where this entry is going to have to end because my sleep meds are really starting to kick in. More tomorrow.
I also really hate it when I try to talk to my mother about things I want to do or things I'm thinking and she doesn't care at all. What makes me more upset is that she's done it for 25 years and I can't get it through my head that she isn't going to care. She never has, so why would she start now? I don't mean that my mom doesn't care about me, but she doesn't like to talk to me. Whatever she's really feeling or thinking, she won't share. She doesn't like to be real with other people. It's a bad quality that I have unfortunately inherited. I've learned from her to clam up and bury things when I'm confronted. It's very frustrating because it's very hard to realize I'm doing it and change the behavior.
I do a lot of stupid things. I don't know what causes me to do them. I just...do. I can't seem to finish anything I start. I'm having a hard time finishing this entry because I just want to do something else. Is it my attention span? Do I just not care? I don't know. I get tired and I get stressed and just stop. Maybe I'm afraid of actually succeeding at something. About a month ago, I had a lot going for me. I had a great job that I didn't have to have a degree for, I was on a schedule, I was cast in a play, and I was really happy. But then things started getting hard. I felt very tired and stressed and like I didn't have time to do things I needed to. I missed some work. And I lost my job. And now I am in another rut. This has happened to me so many times in my life and I don't know how to fix it. It's like my life is stuck on repeat on a really bad song that I can't get out of.
About three days after I was fired, I randomly decided to take 40 benadryl. It was the worst experience of my life. I had to listen to my brother and my mom scream at me as I tried to make myself vomit up the pills. I had to sit in silence as my mom drove me to the emergency room. She wouldn't even look at me. Even when we got to the hospital, she just looked straight forward. By the time they called me back, I couldn't walk. I could barely stand. I remember I was trying to text someone and I couldn't remember what I was trying to type. Even with the text in front of me. I remember trying to hit the backspace button on my phone and not being able to get my thumb on it and making more and more typos. I remember them putting me in the wheelchair and taking my vitals. They kept asking me questions and looking at me condescendingly. If I wasn't so out of it I probably would have been upset about it.
They wheeled me to the ER and I laid on a gurney for a little while. They took my blood and stuck two IVs into my arms. Then they decided they were going to put a catheter in me. I told them no. All they said was, "Doctor's orders." I got really upset. Shouldn't I be allowed to deny a catheter? It's not like I was telling them not to take care of me. I was in enough control not to pee on myself. For goodness sakes. Give me a break. That was awful. It was so strange what was going through my mind though. I had rehearsal for a play that night. The stage manager texted me when I was late and asked me if I knew about rehearsal. I was in such denial about what was going on that I started to text her back telling her I would be late, but I would be there. Luckily that text didn't go through.
My dad got there at some point, I don't really remember when. I started to get really tired and didn't want to be awake anymore. I remember him coming to sit beside me and his eyes were really red like he had been crying. It broke my heart. I couldn't keep my eyes open though. The benadryl had really hit me hard and I had to fight my body to stay awake. When I looked at him again, he had his eyes closed like he was praying for me. Again with the heart break. I love my dad more than anything. He is the best man I've ever known and I respect him more than anything. To see him in that much pain was more than I could take.
I can't tell you how much time passed, but at some point the nurse came in and told my mom they were going to pump my stomach. This is where things got really bad for me. Because unlike some people who have overdosed, I was conscious. I was a little out of it, but I remember everything that happened. I remember all the needle sticks and how many times they had to try to find a vein for my IVs. But what I remember most is the tube. They had to shove a two foot tube down my nose and into my stomach. It hurt. And then they pumped the tube full of charcoal. I remember how cold and clammy it felt in my stomach. I started to throw up a little. Do you know how hard it is to throw up when you have a tube stuck down the back of your throat? It was awful. After I don't know how long, they finally stopped with the charcoal. But the tube stayed. It stayed for about an hour. My mouth started to get really dry and I started to feel very nauseated. I kept swallowing to try to keep down the vomit that I felt was trying to coming up. Everytime I did, my tonsils would push back against the plastic tube. Then that started to hurt. I finally started complaining about it and they decided it was ok to take it out.
I watched my dad as they pulled it out. He couldn't believe it. I couldn't either. I don't know which hurt worse, having it put it or taken out. But the tube was out. After all that, I had to endure a lot of embarrassment after the charcoal started making me really sick. They were giving me a hard time about going to the bathroom because my heart rate was up really high. They didn't want me getting up and down. But I finally just told them that I was getting up to go to the bathroom. I wasn't using one of the stupid little bedside toilets. That's gross. Several trips back and forth from the bathroom later, I was finally taken to my own room. I was relieved. I was hoping that soon it would be over and I could go back home. Unfortunately for me, it doesn't work that way. I was hoping I could just go to sleep, but I was to have several more bathroom trips before the night was over. What made it so bad was that I had to have a nurse come every time to unhook me from all the machines before I could get up. It was like a public announcement that I had to poop. Sorry if that's gross, but it's what happened. Charcoal is a crazy laxative.
Anyway, my parents eventually left. I slept when I could and when I was waiting to go to the bathroom I watched tv. At about midnight, I was finally getting settled down. And then here comes the lab tech to take my blood. Usually I don't really care, but I know that they had busted my veins up pretty well back in the ER. They had to take blood from a vein in my hand. Not fun. When that one left, I was able to get a bit of sleep. When 3 am rolled around another one came to take more blood. It's like an easter egg hunt for my veins. After that, I was able to sleep a little more soundlessly. At about nine they brought me breakfast that I tried to eat. I think I ate a mini biscuit and a piece of bacon.
This is where this entry is going to have to end because my sleep meds are really starting to kick in. More tomorrow.