My last overdose was September last year; I couldn't go a whole calendar year without one; that would just be irresponsible! Wednesday night saw my belly greeting a rather small overdose. I took my self to hospital just to avoid scaring my housemates and to stop myself wetting the bed if I ended up unconscious for longer than expected. I think I was out for 17 hours, then they just kept me until I could walk and had a psych assessment. I saw my psychiatrist today, we chatted about it briefly but there were other things I wanted to discuss, like my hopeful misinterpretation from my Mum saying that my illnesses are all my own fault and that Dad wasn't perfect but much better than I remember. My Dr is very good at putting things into perspective and validating my feelings.
I've got two and a half hours to fill in until I see a friend for the night. I'm feeling rotten right now, but at least I have seeing her to look forward to.
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