09th November 2012. (Possibly triggering)

Just after 9:00pm. I've just had a shower. I shaved my legs today. I also got groceries, a pack of tailies, ate 2 meals, and got exited from Tupu Ake.

So I guess I should explain the last 12 days.

Monday 29th October, after turning off my laptop, I had a smoke, then took a massive overdose. I will not tell you what, I'm not here to help people kill themselves. But I will say that every professional I have spoken to since then has called it a massive overdose.

I fell asleep between 9:30pm and 10:00pm. My only memory between then, and waking up in adult short-stay at Middlemore late morning on Wednesday 31st October, is a very vague one, of someone tapping my shoulder and saying my name.

I do not know the difference between comatose and unconscious. I know I was one of the two for over a day - they could get response from my eyelids/eyeballs but nothing else. My keyworker (who is a mental health nurse) said she thinks (but is not sure) that a coma is where they can get some sort of response, and unconsciousness is a state of no response whatsoever.

So, I woke up late Wednesday morning, and my first thought - my first clear thought - was, "Shit, it didn't work." Then I noticed I had a line in my left arm, and a massive bruise and one of the round sticking plasters they use after removing a line on my right arm. I was not fully conscious straight away, I believe I slept a fair bit. I know they ran multiple bags of various liquids through the IV that morning. I was medically cleared around midday that Wednesday. My keyworker (who must have been alerted when I woke up) came and asked me where I wanted to go from there. She said hospital, respite, or home. I just gave her a look (I suppose it was a pretty hopeless look, but it was a look all the same), and she asked if I would like her to decide for me. I said yes. So she organised a bed for me at what is quite possible the nicest respite around, Tupu Ake, on Wallace Rd in Papatoetoe. Tupu Ake is also listed as "an acute alternative to hospital", meaning those that are there are *technically* unwell enough to qualify for hospital, but they have that option instead.

I remember realising we were leaving short stay and I was only wearing boxers and a t-shirt. I asked for pants, and Judy got me some hospital pyjama pants that were mercifully large enough, and then I remember asking her to step onto the other side of the curtain whilst I put them on. I guess it must seem a bit odd, I mean, she'd already seen me wearing next to nothing, but I wanted privacy whilst I put the pants on.

Then we left. I have a vague memory of walking down the hospital corridor, and Judy kept putting her arm around my shoulders, which I found odd, but later realised it was because I was weaving all over the freaking place. Got into the car, driven to Tupu Ake. Judy came back to my place to pick up some clothing for me. She had expected me to sleep whilst I waited but I did something else. I don't remember what, Wednesday is still pretty blurry and will probably remain so.

What I learned whilst I was in respite, was that Sam found me, alerted the appropriate people, and was told to call an ambulance. I was transported to hospital thus, but I have no recollection of it. As I said previously, I was either unconscious or comatose. I learned (from Judy, whom I asked) that whilst I was being asleep/unconscious/comatose in my own bed on the night of Monday - Tuesday, as she put it, "all systems let go", meaning I wet the bed, mildly shit myself, apparently there was evidence of vomitting, and also, as I had my period, there was blood. Not pretty. I learned from Sam, who told me this afternoon, that when she found me it was about 11:30am on Tuesday - she'd left it because sometimes I sleep until 11 or so - and I was sprawled on my back. Normally I sleep on my side. She said I was in the exact same position as Blossom had been when she found her (Blossom had sleep apnoea and died overnight, Sam found her), and she had a massive fright. Sam spent about a week in respite recovering from the shock. I feel bad for what I did to her, but I can't go back and undo it.

But based on what everybody's said, I may owe Sam my life. Based on the fact that everything evacuated, and I was positioned that way, and that everybody has called it a "massive" overdose, I may have cheated death. I don't yet know how to feel about that.

I know I was kept in short stay so that my heart, liver, and kidney function could be monitored, because Judy told me so. Apparently I had arrythmia and tachycardia. I'm not sure if they're the same thing or not, and I'm not going to research it at this point in time.

In my week and two days at Tupu Ake, I had to come to terms with the fact that I lived. I don't know where I go from here. I know I made a fabulously colourful felt-tip drawing which I and everybody else like. I know after the day I was failing to have an afternoon nap on my bed there and Judy consequently had her session with me in my room, I felt somewhat better. More - there, I suppose.

I know I felt best during my stay there this Wednesday, when Leisa came and spent over an hour with me. I know I felt calmest when Shelly was on an AM shift and let me use her as a pillow pretty much (love.). I know I felt the most agitated after I'd seen Mum on Saturday and she'd said "people who overdose don't really want to die". You can understand how that would be upsetting, after what the professionals call a massive and very serious overdose. I know I felt lowest when I was sitting in the library just before Anette came and Lee was playing guitar. I just broke down and cried right there.

They feel I can cope at home now. But they want me to keep in contact as much as possible. I have to text Judy on Monday. She offered to see me more than once this week, but at the time I just wanted to get out of the room because I was feeling nervous so I said no. Normal session on Friday.

We have to be very careful about medications. Sam has to hide hers, and me and my team, for our part, have to be sure that I never have more than a week's of my own medication. It was due to a snafu that I ended up with so much in the first place.

And here we are, Friday evening, and Mr. Bean has just started.

I love you all. No matter what. I'm not going to try and kill myself again, it seems I am destined to live whether I want to or not. But I feel it's important to say.

I love you. Every one of you.
Especially you, Sam Latham, I owe you my life.