Don't be sorry, I'm an open book.

Back in 08 I had a wonderful job that paid well. I was actually in some training for the job down in Texas.

On the day of my graduation from the training, I received a phone call in my cellphone and went to voicemail. It was from my family, plus it was graduation day so I figured they were calling to congratulate me on graduating. I listened to the voicemail. I don't remember which family member left the message. All I remember is hearing that my mother had taken some pills, overdosed, had been in a coma and she had been unplugged from life support.

Within 24 hours, my job flew me back home to attend her memorial and funeral. I don't remember much of the funeral. I remember at the memorial, I was sitting on the curb in my uniform with my beret in hand staring down at the concrete. I couldn't make it to the burial, because it was to hard to go.

I went back to my job and for around 6 months I worked my job. I don't remember alot about what I was doing during this period, because I was dealing with my mother's death. One day during my alcoholic, cough syrup and pain pill binge, I received another phone call. This phone call was from a foster family telling me my foster brother had committed suicide. He took a bunch of medication, drank a bottle of whiskey and went to sleep.

I couldn't handle another funeral, so I didn't go. I eventually got so crazy, I ended up drinking a liter Evan Williams and some anxiety pills woke up in a hospital with stitches all over my face. I had taken a razorblade to my face.

I got out of that hospital and maybe a month later, I tried hanging myself at a hotel with a rope and another bottle. A friend came by and took me to the psych until where this story happened.

I was at this hospital 8 weeks, and moved into the room where it happened. I didn't know about the slit wrist story till about the 6th week. Now I already had major depression, but this room almost amplified it. I've never tried committing suicide from slitting my wrists before that. I have been a chronic cutter and burner, but that's not suicidal for me. That was just a release. I no longer cut or burn.

When I first came to this psych unit, I had the biggest need to slit my wrists. I started off the first day with a simple playing card. I took the playing card and kept running it across the same spot. I did this for hours. It started to cut, but the staff caught me so they took it away. I grabbed a plastic pen cap and kept doing it about 30 minutes after I got the playing card taken away.

I chewed serrated edges similar to the teeth on a saw. I then went to the shower I had in my room and turned on a warm shower. I got in the shower and started rubbing it back and forth. It's was the same idea as a regular saw. I remember feeling the edges cutting and grinding through gristle. It hurt, but not to the point of horrible pain. I finally cut through the gristle and for a few seconds while grinding the pen cap across my wrists, nothing happened.

What happened next is, I received the most intense pain, I've had in a long time. Blood started spurting all across the shower tiles and everywhere. It freaked me out so bad I ran into the hallway and said "I made a mistake" this was said while blood is spurting all over the place. The staff quickly called an emergency and I don't remember alot, but they stitched me up (it was bad, but not as bad as it could have been) and stuck a cocktail of thorazine amongst other things in my ass cheek. I passed out for a week.

There have been other reports of people slitting their wrist in that room. The staff were quite aware of it.