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How 3 Days in The Psych Ward Saved My Life

I had been insecure about the way I looked at 20; now that I was pushing 40, I could only imagine how my slow physical decline would impact my already fragile self-esteem. I was scared—really scared. I had my addiction under control (as under control as I could have it) but my borderline personality disorder, my body dysmorphic disorder and my depression were taking a toll.

An article by Amy Dresner from AlterNet:

How 3 Days in The Psych Ward Saved My Life

I had three-and-a-half years sober when I tried to kill myself by overdosing on Phenobarbital. It was the 4th of July and I’d joke later that I was still so torn up by the split of America from England that I couldn’t take it anymore. But at the time there was nothing funny or patriotic about it.

I had tried to kill myself once before, when I was 34 and living in London, by slashing my wrists with a box cutter. It was terrifying: blood was pouring everywhere and I could see the muscles and tendons and flesh inside. In my experience, the British healthcare system—especially mental healthcare—leaves something to be desired: all they did was sew me shut, give me a tetanus shot and send me on my way.

But this time was different. I was in living in Los Angeles, and I’d been to a meeting that very day. I had called my sponsor. I had sponsees. I was performing regularly as a comic and getting good reviews. And yet I still felt that deep despair—I hated myself and worried that my husband hated me too. I had been insecure about the way I looked at 20; now that I was pushing 40, I could only imagine how my slow physical decline would impact my already fragile self-esteem. I was scared—really scared. I had my addiction under control (as under control as I could have it) but my borderline personality disorder, my body dysmorphic disorder and my depression were taking a toll. I was tired of fighting to feel “normal.” I wanted out, but I was scared to pick up drugs again. My drinking and using always landed me quickly in the ER or jail. I knew that wasn’t the answer, but what was?

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