Suicide Attempts Reported by Readers.


These are shown as sent to me, after removing some irrelevant and/or identifying information, and fixing a few grammatical ambiguities.   I obviously can’t vouch for their accuracy.



"I didn't intend to drown myself but to swim until I wore out."  Except, that I took three bottles of pills first to make the journey more comfortable because if you've ever experienced air deprivation (contrary to some opinions) it is very, very distressful and I didn't want to suffer through the suffocation.  The problem was I passed out before I reached the water (I'm normally an adequate swimmer) and was finally checked on by the lifeguards hours later who were locking up the beach. 


The rest of the story is pretty ordinary from there.  If I had had a bit of clear-headedness when I woke up, chances are I wouldn't have been locked up as long as I was because they couldn't find anything in my blood (I guess I chose a good combination of prescription medicines) and it was all a mystery to them what was the matter with me.  The day I left the hospital, they were still trying to figure out why I'd done it because I never did explain that.  It was just while I was semi-conscious that I admitted to what I'd done because I'm just too honest for my own good.  Had I feigned ignorance, I would have gone down as someone with some mysterious syncopic and comatose episode -- maybe a seizure or something else.  Doctors really don't know a great deal that goes on with human bodies and of what they do know, most of it is guess work.




Here is an example of what drugs do: I took 150 valium, 50 beta blocker (Obsidan), some French prescription sleeping pills, 12 Sominex, 10 Codein, and a glass of light alcohol (20%) -- much alcohol could cause me to throw up the pills. I planned to take the boric acid after loosing sensitivity. However, I lost consciouseness about 20 minutes past taking the pills while still outside of my apartment (I went to put a letter to the mailbox), so I couldn't get to the acid (I expected to have no less than 30 minutes). I never made it back to the apartment; apparently I was able to move while being uncouscious.


…In hospital I was on the respirator, tubes, etc. and my first understanding came about 5-6 days after I was found. I had 50 scull fractures, contusion, bleeding from the ear, CSF leak, and, the worst, facial paralysis on one side w/t eye closure/tearing. I don't have memory of 7 days completely.


Doctors tried to commit me but I went out after the judge hearing (I have no memory of it). I had to have the head surgery later to repair the cranial nerve at brainstem -- the doctor said he don't understand why I stayed alive after the head trauma.




I tried with a plastic bag and I removed it semi-conscious even while severely sedated, I mean ...60 tabs of trazolone [sic: may be trazodone].... All my contact with pharmacy drugs and other stuff left some scars though, namingly a 3 month long amnesia....




I recently tried to exit using the helium method. I couldn't stand it and

yanked the bag off.  The gas was NOT 'innocuous and odorless' as the

Humphrys/Final Exit crowd had led me to believe.  It felt like inhaling

poison gas.  Made me nauseous, headachey, and there was a terrifying feeling

of falling through space.  Now I am suffering, not from fear of death, but

from fear of the ways of getting there.




I talked for several days with someone who had seen this movie Final Exit. He explained to me a method which sounded very convincing, as I had never considered overdosing from hearing all the horror stories. To me a method of sleeping pills, a bag, and rubber bands was described. I went about gathering all my necessary materials over the course of a few days and then found my secluded location where I would not be found for at least a day or two (more than enough time) I was instructed to take sleeping pills that I could crush/slip powder into a drink, something that I could gulp down quickly. Also I was recommended using a juice of some kind as the acidity would aid in the speed of the process. I followed instructions, and this is where things went wrong. I wasn't given a specific dose that I should take, so in purchasing one package it wasn't enough. It resulted in a high of sorts, with hallucinations and everything. I went home in this disoriented state unaware that I was under any influence. Several hours later I was confronted, threatened to be taken to a hospital, but instead put to bed (very lucky for me). I woke up the next morning, with the inside skin of my mouth dead and peeling, and the worst dawning of what I had just woken up to. The next week of my life is one that I almost do not remember, and just the though of drinking orange juice literally makes me gag.




i have previoustly tried to kill myself using asphyxiation. I failed because i went unconciouse before i got the bag on. I used Lorezepam as my sedetive. I took alcohol, but not a very large amount.




I once attempted to take my life by swallowing 4 bottles of sleeping pills with a bottle of vodka, helped with a half bottle of Niquil [sic: Nyquil].  Unless you take something such as Dramamine to keep you from vomiting everything will come up and as in my experience land you in the hospital for 3 days.  Unless you think it out and take Dramamine with your dose you are just wasting your time!!




...I heard of a lady running her car in her garage & dieing from it, but when I tried, I picked a fairley small garage, sat there for three to four hours, but only ended up light-headed & nautious.... Mixing alcohol with drugs didn't work either.  I took a bottle of tylenol ( i think about 60) and about 10 800mg Ibuprofen with about 7 anti-depresants(seritonon reuptake inhibitors) I thought the SRI's would make me pass out, the regular dose put me to sleep.  The ibuprofen is a bad choice.  When you thow it up, it is foamy and chalky and you know it is the ibuprofen.  The anti-depressants are also a bad choice.  I ended up with some sort of a withdrawl from them one time (Effexor) .  I don't think the alcohol or tylenol do anything.  I've attempted about 6 overdoses on medicine on hand and all my combinations were wrong, with or without alcohol.  I'm done with the overdoses and wouldn't recommend them to anyone else.  I have contemplated crashes, but am too afraid I will come out fine and owe the city money to repair anything I damage.




one attempt:


  Insulin overdose


  failed due to the fact that I am insulin resistant


  second attempt:


  colonopin overdose


  failed because colonopin [sic: Klonopin] or colonazepam [sic: clonazepam] causes seazures that attracted attention and the police were called.


  Third attempt:


  Drove car off cliff into big tree.


  failed, spend 16 years in a wheelchair as a result.


  thats all




Today i sat in my 95 [car] for over 2 hours in my garage until my dad came home, and discovered me in the garage. I was dissapointed not to even fall unconscious. i was drinking rum and coke as well. The garage was sealed. i don't think i will ever try suicide again.




...I slit my left wrist.  I hadn't had a plan to kill myself, but sometimes I thought about crashing my car, or running in front of a speeding car....This particular morning we had gotten in a big fight and I thought, it's this life or no life because I don't have the strength to leave him.  As I screamed to him I wish I was dead I wish I was dead!  I had a knife and smacked in against my arm.  It wasn't cutting me, but the last time I hit myself I swooped the knife across my wrist.  Blood squirted and even when I grabbed my wrist with my right hand the blood was flowing like crazy....I ended up slicing 6 tendons and my median nerve and even now as I type this I can't feel half of my hand.  When you touch it, it feels of that awful pain when your leg falls asleep.  I can't use my thumb pointer or middle finger normal ever again.  When I straighten my fingers it feels like rubberbands that are about to rip apart.  I wish I would have never done it, or if I did do it, I wish I would have died.




...The most notable attempt, which may or may not interest you, is a dramamine overdose.  Ninety pills (4,500 mgs) ingested.  Supposedly 5,000mgs is enough to induce cardiac arrest.  You likely know about antihistamine overdose, and the psychotic/sedated state that results.  Almost immediately after ingestion, I was out cold.  I slept for about eighteen hours.  Instead of my heart failing, I faced a condition called rhabdomyelosis, in which my muscle tissue began to dissolve.  This flooded my bloodstream with proteins and ultimitaley caused my kidneys to fail.  At some point in the night I woke up to go to the restroom, and immediately after getting on my feet my right leg gave in.  My parents found me lying in fetal position next to my bed.  The way I had slept on my hip cut off one of my nerves, or something, and when I awoke I was unable to stand up.  My foot and heel were numb for weeks, and just recently have I started to regain the ability to move my foot.


  If you are aware of the psychotic qualities of antihistamines, you basically imagine everything to look like an insect.  I woke up what seems like several times in the night to furiously brush off an ant that I thought was crawling on me.  I also dreamt of walking around my house, knocking glasses over and having them shatter before me.  Even when I awoke, I still percieved fuzzballs on my carpet to be spiders swarming my feet.


  This is the closest I have come to death.  In the hospital they flushed my system with some type of fluid, to ensure my kidneys regained function.  My urine at the time of arrival was the color of Coca-Cola....




...My first attempt was at the age of 22. It was just about entirely unplanned--at least consciously....We had gotten into a big fight the night before.  I went shopping at the mall the next day to get out of the house....As I was driving home, I was about to pass a drug store and made a snap decision to go in and buy some sleeping pills.  I know now, after spending a few days on the internet trying to find something that DOES work, that this is not usually a very successful method.  At the time, I suppose I figured if one or two sleeping pills could knock me out, a whole bottle or two would do just fine. 


  I went home and started writing out things that I wanted to take place after I died....Then I started downing as many of the pills with water as I could as fast as I could before I could lose my nerve, which the hospital estimated at between 80-100 pills.  I started to gag at some point, but kept forcing them down.  It never occurred to me, as some of these websites point out, that I should have checked into a hotel or ran off to Mexico to do the deed.  I'm sure part of me wanted to be found or I would have done a better job, but I was also dumb to the realities.  I remember my husband trying to slap me awake, being carried down the steps, wetting myself in the emergency room and the panic that set in the second before I conked out when I realized that I was paralyzed and couldn't move and then being amazed that even though everything else had shut down, my hearing was the last to go.  Who would have thought.


  I somewhat woke up about a week later in the hospital to a nurse trying to get me sign transfer papers.  According to my husband and family, I had talked to them and even made phone calls on my own during the week, but did not remember a second of the week up to that point.  I was transferred to the psychiatric ward of another hospital and even that second week is a bit foggy.  Apparently I said things to the doctors about my past that were not even true and I don't know if this is because I was loopy and didn't understand the questions, or they didn't understand my answers....




...One day I took a full box of a certain type of tricyclic anti-depressants. I don't remember which ones exactly, as I had thrown away the box and kept them in a different container together with the date of expiry....I collected several more anti-depressants of various kinds. According to the book, it was enough for a lethal dose, albeit only just.


so one day last December I figured it was time, so I got really drunk on half a bottle of wodka. I had a bit of quiche, hoping this would keep my stomach from throwing up, and then I took those tablets.


I was lying on my couch, plastic covering on it in case I threw up. I vaguely remember getting into bed. Needless to say, I woke up the next day. In time to call in sick for work and family.  The kitchen was a bit of a mess, broken glass in the sink of which I had no recollection.


For the next 2 days I suffered from 'small brain damage' syndrom, like it was really difficult to walk straight. I slept for the best part of those 2 days, and even though I feared these symptoms might be permanent (brain damage being the worst nightmare of a failed suicide attempt!!!!), I didn't dare call any doctor for I was embarassed what people would say if they found out.


I must say, it felt very empty afterwards. it was a serious attempt and having to go on with life as though nothing had happened and no one knowing about it made me feel very empty and lonely and desperate.


The symptons have disappeared. Now I find myself increasingly forgetful and suffering slightly from aphasia, but that was already starting before the attempt. I figure that it is due either to my chronic use of diazepam (5mg a day on average, doctor's prescription) or drinking too much wine.




I first attempted to drown myself at the age of 8 and have attempted a few times since then, once with sleeping pills, once cutting, once with a firearm. As you can probably guess, I was looking for a method that would work while hoping for some

last-minute rescue from the pain.  I failed because of conflicting purposes.




I'm a 25 y/o female.  I've been having problems with depression on and off since I was 13.  I thought I'd tell you about my suicide attempt.  It failed, obviously --

something for which I am becoming more and more grateful as I recover

from this episode of depression.  I'm not going to go into the "why"

of it -- the "why" boils down to clinical depression and the very

destructive thought patterns that are associated with such....


On [date] I attempted to kill myself by injecting

1600 units of Novolog (rapid-acting) insulin into 16 separate sites on

my body.  (I used different sites because I'd read that a bolus can be

excised surgically if they find your limp, twitching, or comatose body

in time.)  I used Novolog, or rapid-acting insulin, because it was

what I had on hand -- I'm a type-I diabetic using an insulin pump.

For reference, my typical daily use is about 40 to 50 units of

insulin, which is of course spread out over a 24-hour period each day.


I gave myself the insulin at around 10:30 in the morning.

Rapid-acting insulins (such as Novolog and Humalog) tend to peak in

around 2 hours, so I was anticipating waking up dead (sorry, figure of

speech) before noon.  I was hoping that sheer amount of insulin would

be enough to cause a hypoglycemic coma and death fairly rapidly.


I didn't use my pump to give it to myself, because I judged it would

just take much too long and be too much trouble.  I pulled out all the

insulin syringes I had in the house.  This happened to be 16 100iu

syringes.  Pop pop pop.  One in my stomach, one in my thigh, one in

the back of my arm, one in my hip.  I picked sites randomly; all the

places that a diabetic can use to inject her insulin each day.  Only

the first one was scary.  The next 15 were methodical; I didn't even

feel like it was me doing it.  I was sitting back and watching this

girl give herself a huge overdose.


After injecting the insulin, I went to sleep.  This was terribly easy,

as I hadn't really been out of bed in 2 days.  I was exhausted, and I

fell asleep right away.  I left the empty bottles and re-capped

syringes on my nightstand.  Let everybody else figure it out.  My

suicide note was short and barely even qualified as such.  I wasn't

even sure that anyone would recognize it as a suicide note.


...I woke up a little after 12:00pm, about 1.5 hours after giving myself

the insulin, shaking, covered in sweat, and having a very typical

hypoglycemic episode.  What. The. Fuck.


Now I was scared.  How had 1600 units of rapid-acting insulin not

killed me?  Fearing that I was going to end up brain-damaged, rather

than dead, I called my mother and told her what I'd done.  She said

she was calling 911 and hung up on me...


I got up and ate some glucose tablets, and (of all things) a scone.

It's what was there.  I unlocked my front door and went back to bed.

Two police officers knocked on my door, but I didn't get up.  They let

themselves in and assured themselves that I was docile.  An EMT

followed.  She didn't believe that I'd given myself that much insulin.

 I didn't care.  I didn't need a stretcher; I walked to ambulance.


In the ER, I was given 10% dextrose by I.V. for 6 hours.  I'm not sure

that the doctors believed me at first, but when my blood glucose level

failed to rise after three 50cc syringes of pure dex (added to the

original dextrose by I.V.), I think they might have started to



...This was not intended to be a gesture or mere "attempt".  I was

honestly intending to die.  It didn't work.




I thought about suicide so many times in my life...but thought of it as a last resort.  Around 2002 I was throwing out an old vacuum but kept the hose, because I remembered an episode of COPS where a guy killed himself by putting a hose inside his car.  In 2005, I did the same thing, but felt I needed to get drunk first. So I shut off my engine and sat down by some trees.  In doing so, I calmed down, and never completed the suicide.




I have tried the following methods:


1. Drinking bleach - It made me throw up shortly after ingesting it. My stomach burned for weeks. Unsuccessful.

2. Hanging - Did not know how to tie a correct noose, and my head slipped out after my throat was crushed. Could not swallow well for a few weeks. Painful.

3. Prescription drugs - Did not have enough to complete the job apparently. This method was pleasant and I am looking forward to trying it again with morphine, probably in conjunction with a plastic bag....




I was actually in hospital...receiving treatment for severe Schizophrenia and depression when I pocketed one razor from a 3 blade shaving razor. The hacks didn't inspect that razor though they supervised my shaving. I waited until late at night when the supervision would be least and nurses would only check in periodically to see supposedly sleeping patients. I went into the bathroom and started hacking at my wrists. I had heard debates on which would be the right direction to cut so I decided to cut both ways. However I fainted before I could finish cutting and woke up in the emergency room. They said i'd lost about 500mls of blood and gave me 26 stitches. Oh well, better luck next time :)




chlorox bleach injected directly into a forearm vein stings slightly less than various other chemicals.  it produces no visible lightening of the skin, no physical reaction (nausea, dizziness, pain), and no death.  the most pitiful attempt ever.  [only 1 cc of bleach used].  my attempts all fail.




I have attempted suicide 5 times now and have been singularly unsuccessful...


At 12 years old I took 15 aspirins which simply made me very sick and dizzy 

the following day.

At 15 I took sleeping pills (maybe 14 of them) which just gave me amnesia 

and I was sent to school where I apparently collapsed and was taken to  hospital.

At 16 I took 21 sleeping pills which made my organs start to malfunction, 

but not collapse completely and I was taken to hospital where they pumped my 

stomach and tried to make the experience as unpleasant as possible so i would 

not attempt it again.  (This worked for some considerable time as I was 

subsequently unable to even take any pain killers for headaches etc!)


At 43 I took 48 pills - a combination of tranquilisers, pain killers and 

anti-depressants and was just very sick in the night and woke up the following 



A couple of months later I tried to first inject myself with air.   Being

unable to find an artery I injected every vein i could find until they all 

seemed to shrink from the syringe in horror.  I don't know where the air  went, but

not to my heart...  I then tried to inject alcohol, which was  excruciatingly

painful (and unsuccessful) and to extract blood with the syringe,  which was

unsuccessful.  I gave up...




once, a long time ago, i attempted suicide twice. first, by placing a gun to my head & pulling the trigger. the second time, by overdosing on drugs.


the gun failed to go off which was lucky for me as i didn't know at the time that a .22 often times only wrecks your brain but fails to kill you. i didn't have the courage to try it again.


the drug overdose would likely have done the job but i was stupid enough to try and locate myself where i would be found by a friend and crashed my car on the way while merely under the influence.. which caused me to end up in the hospital er....




I took 17 [of the] 500mg vicidan [sic---probably vicodin] pills. I got scared after I took them and told my mom right away. She told me to try to throw them up but I was to upset and my throat felt like it was swollen shut. My mom drove me to the hospital and I packed some stuff because I knew they would keep me for awhile to make sure I was mentally stable enough to go home. I got there and they made me wait 10 minutes in the waiting room before they took me back and asked me what I did. I felt really dizzy and tired. I wanted to just go to sleep and then everything would be fine. They took down my insurance information and then they brought me back to the Exam room. They made me drink 2 botles of charcoal that stuff tastes like ground up chalk watered down and died black. They did all these tests on me to make sure I was ok and I guess I was so they transfered me to the mental ward and I ended up never wanting to do that again.




...I went to the local library and looked up the medication I was taking.  I noticed that like many in its class, it was a CNS depressant and back then, the PDR helpfully listed the lowest known lethal dose.  I did some basic calculations and knew that I had more than the minimum needed to cause death.


 I kept the medication in my car, not the best storage place but it fit into my plan.  I didn't drink at all but knew that alcohol is also a CNS depressant so purchased a pint of vodka...


I kept my cache and scouted the area where I lived for a likely spot.  I had strict rules about killing myself.  I wouldn't do it so that others would be likely to witness it, particularly children.  I wouldn't do it at home to spare my family the memory/blame of my death.  I wouldn't jump off a bridge because some Good Samaritan might risk, or even lose, his or her life in an attempt to save mine.  I figured it would be truly horrendous if someone else died trying to save me but I lived.  I didn't want that guilt.


 I continued to work but life became more and more of a burden until one night I just couldn't take it anymore.  I got in my car and drove off to an area where I knew I wouldn't be noticed quickly.  I had been calling a hotline and talking to a counselor there, I told her all about my research and recall how shocked she was to realize I enjoyed the intellectual pursuit of information.  I called her one last time that night, drank the vodka, swallowed the pills, and drove off.


What I hadn't counted on was how quickly the medication and alcohol would affect me.  My last memory was that I needed to pull over because I was a hazard.  I would never endanger someone else but I blacked out before I could pull over.  I did manage to get the car off the road but the bumper was sticking out a bit and that caused a passing cop to notice.  He stopped to see if I were ill and when he got to the car, he thought I was already dead.


This part of course is hearsay, I was in a coma for three days.  I woke up in ICU with tubes everywhere.  My first thought was one of annoyance at all the tubes.  I immediately pulled the one from my nose, not realizing it was threaded into my stomach.  I retched but out it came.  The IVs in my arms were another story, my arms were tied with bandages to boards, and bending them was annoying that's how I realized they had IVs in them.  A nurse came over and spoke to me but I drifted in and out of awareness for the next few days.


 When I finally was able to engage in conversation my cousin who is a nurse told me that had the paramedics arrived twenty minutes later they'd not have attempted to revive me....


So, that's the unlovely story of my first and most serious attempt.  I classify it that way because subsequent attempts have not resulted in anywhere near the same recovery time.  I think it is because medicine is now better equipped to deal with such things, but I can't be sure.  What I am sure of is that I have never made a 'gesture,' I have always intended to die. 




I had just just enough Amebien [sic: Ambien] (sleeping pill) to put me to sleep.

So I took them, and place a plastic bag over my head, with a strong

rubber-band around the neck. I held my fingers under the bag in such a way

so that as I fell asleep, they would slide out, and exphixiate me. I used

oil on my fingers to insure this purpose.


But the damn bag kept falling off as I "slept". I kept waking up with the

damn bag in the incorrect place. Finally, I said "enough of this shit" and

called 911. Being in the hospital was worse than the suicide attempt IMHO.




I've attempted suicide several times...

The first was when I was 10 years old.... I overdosed on a giant bottle of Bayers apirin.  The most recent [age 14] last month.  I slit my left wrist.  It wasn't even that big of a cut, it was small and not that deep, but it bled like a bitch.  There was a big pool of blood on my floor from it pouring out of my body and onto the floor, it splattered off of that and got on my shoes that I only had for a couple weeks at the time, which pissed me off.  I stopepd the bleeding eventually, and then I'd ever so lightly slide the razorblade over it again, in doing so, it poured again... and again.. and again.. and then I heard a knock at my door, I couldn't stop the bleeding soon enough so I just grabbed my stocking that I cut up long ago to wear as an armwarmer, and put it over the bloody wrist and threw my black sleepingbag over the miniature pool of blood... I then answered the door, it was my mother, she thought I had been yelling for her and she just wanted to tell me that she was out in the backyard on the trampoline talking on the phone... she still was on the phone... I told her that I wasn't and basically tried getting rid of her ASAP without her realising that I was trying to do so... when she had just turned around I pulled my arm back because I felt the blood dripping down my hand and starting to drip from my fingertips... She noticed... she grabbed my arm and it was so bloody her whole hand was covered and you could see the red and the cut up stocking/tights thing was black... it was completely soaked.. so I tried keeping her out of my room but it didn't work cuz she stuck her damn fingers in the door thing so I couldn't close it even if I slammed her fingers in there or not (I didn't try to of course).. she finally got in my room after I gave up and she was yelling at me as she dragged me into the bathroom and made me wash the blood off and she tried to force me to put pressure on it to stop the bleeding but I didn't want to, I eventually heeded her command and did it but she wouldn't let off so I ran down the stairs and out the door, went up to the hammock and ditched my blood stopper, I then went across the street to the lake to steal the boat and get away... I couldn't find any keys, so I just sat there, about an hour or two later she showed up and tried talking to me about it but I basically said fuck u after she pissed me off and started yelling at me again, and I went back to the house, locked her out, went to my room in search of my 2  razorblades I put under my CD case to hide them... they were gone, I was really pissed so I locked myself in the bathroom and wouldn't let her in or go out there to show her I wasn't cutting more.. but the whole time I was arguing that I hadn't cut anymore upon entering the bathroom, I was busting another shaving razor to cut.. and I did, a little... eventually I left the bathroom and went to sleep, it drains ur energy and makes u tired...




Here's a first-hand account of an attempt with acetaminophen combined

with diphenhydramine. This was intended to be lethal, rather than a

gesture, although I was slightly ambivalent....


I was 22 years old at the time. I am female, and I weighed about 140

pounds at the time of the overdose. I had researched acetaminophen as a

suicide method, and mistakenly thought that liver failure happens

quickly (I now know otherwise). I took extra strength Tylenol, which was

500 mg per pill. I took somewhere between 25 and 35 pills.


I also took diphenhydramine, because I mistakenly assumed it would make

me sleep through any unpleasant effects from the overdose. I am not sure

how many of those I took, but it was probably around 30-40 pills. I do

not know what the miligrams were per pill; I only know that they were

marketed as an over-the-counter sleeping pill.


After taking all the pills, I decided I should take my dog for a walk

before things got serious. At some point during the walk, the pills

started having an effect. My ability to hear changed: everything sounded

faraway and tinny. When I talked to my dog, I could barely hear my own

voice. I could hear, however, that I was slurring words terribly...I felt very dizzy, and I could not walk in a straight line. I began sweating profusely, even though it was

quite chilly out. By the time I was almost back to my apartment, I had

no coordination and could barely lead my dog back into my apartment. I

remember walking by a girl on the sidewalk, and she stepped aside and

looked at me like I was insane.


Once I got back inside, the sensation of a wave came over me, and I

began violently dry heaving, just bringing up some bile, with no pill

fragments. As luck would have it, I am emetophobic (absolutely terrified

of vomiting, an actual phobia, believe it or not). For this reason, I

panicked and called 911.


When the paramedics came, I was barely able to stand up. It felt like

only a short time had passed since I took the pills, but it had actually

been about 3 hours, so I must have been out with my dog much longer than

I realized.


In the emergency room, they gave me activated charcoal, which I kept

vomiting up. I never actually felt nausea; it was just a wave sensation,

followed by unexpected puking. They ended up putting a tube into my nose

and down my throat, in the hopes that administering charcoal that way

would keep it down. They were wrong, and I puked some more. I also kept

falling asleep with my eyes open, sitting up. My best friend had come to

sit with me in the ER, and she described it as my eyes glazing over and

my mouth hanging slack-jawed. She'd laugh at this sight, which would

wake me up.


They drew blood. The doctor (who, oddly enough, looked exactly like

Kevin Spacey) came to me and said, "Unfortunately, too much Tylenol got

into your blood stream. We have to give you something that smells like

rotten eggs called Mucomyst. You took a fatal amount of Tylenol, and

liver failure is not a fun way to die. The Mucomyst will counteract the

Tylenol you took." He did not tell me exactly how much Tylenol was in my

blood; he just told me it was a fatal amount if I didn't have the



The antidote really did smell like rotten eggs, so they combined it with

apple juice to make it more palatable. I had to drink a cup of it every

4 hours for a few days. During this time, I was constantly having

diarrhea, which looked exactly like activated charcoal. I was also kept

on an IV to give me fluids. The diarrhea and vomiting screwed up my

potassium, so I had to take giant potassium pills. I was not allowed to

eat for 24 hours after the overdose, because they were not yet sure if

my liver had escaped unharmed.


My medical hospitalization for the overdose lasted 3 days. Then, I was

sent to the psychiatric unit for 9 more days. I did not suffer any

long-term effects from this overdose, and my liver is healthy.


I strongly advise against Tylenol overdosage, because even though I got

off easy, I still suffered a lot and felt very sick for the first couple

of days. The way I felt for the first day is absolutely the worst

physical feelings I've ever had. The only good thing to come of it was

an odd feeling of catharsis at having actually tested my own mortality,

and an odd feeling of satisfaction at having taken what would have been

a lethal overdose had I not received the antidote.




I have somehow managed to botch a bag-over head suicide attempt.  I

used a commercial bag, loosely tightened at the neck with string.  I

was laying down, in the dark.


As soon as a had it on, I notice my breathing became heavier, deeper

and quicker.  The bag blew in-and-out.  (Perhaps I failed because the

bag turned into a pump?)  Anyhows, it was taking awhile, although I

did not actually have a clock to keep time inside the bag, and it

didn't seem to be working considering the volume of the bag was quite

small, and I thought I should have exhausted the oxygen supply

already.  Things did seem to get darker, though.


Eventually, I got a headache, and although this was a sign that I was

probably pretty close, I was fairly confused at the time and did not

recognize it.  The headache wasn't like any other headache I remember

having, and was kinda a full-head, surface thing, not throbbing, just

uniform pain. After a little while, I gave up and took the bag off.

The headache went away within seconds and my breathing soon returned

to normal.




I wanted to tell you about a recent suicide attempt I made. I took 13,000 mg

of Seroquel (an anti-psychotic). About 15 minutes after I ingested the pills

 I began to tingle all over my body and grew very cold. I then passed out.

Help was sent quite quickly. I lost consciousness before help arrived and

only know what I've been told and read.


In the ER, I had almost no gag reflex, so they intubated me. I was in the

ICU, intubated, and in a coma for three days (the half life of the drug was

how long I would be in a coma). During my coma, I would move and try to rip

out the tubs so I was restrained. All in all, it wasn't effective. Obviously

 However, if I had been in an isolated place, I wonder if it would have been





I've tried taking all kinds of pills before which have only ended me up in the hospital (either someone finds me or if i swallow them all at once i end up throwing up); i've tried to electricute myself in the bathtub (like on groundhog day) using a hair dryer and a toaster but they both were grounded and didn't do shit; i've tried putting a tight plastic bag over my face but every time i panic when I can't breathe and end up ripping it off; it's the same with trying to hang myself outside my door - i can't force myself to stay there (plus all the weird sounds coming out of my mouth freak the shit out of me). I realized suspension hanging would be the best option in my situation (i live in a small town, and don't drive) but when I tried it the rope snapped. This time i am going to buy the strongest rope I can find and give it another go around. 




Suicide methods 2



I have tried paracetamol(80)tabs and scotch,just ended uo very sick and bright yellow.

Hose pipe in the exhaust(6hours)woke up with a headache.




I am a 15 year old female. I went through a depression and decided one night

to cut my wrists. I got the knife, but I was still a little scared (what kept

me from really trying to kill myself was what would happen to me in my

"afterlife") Anyway, I didn't use enough pressure and my wrists bled and it hurt. I

wasn't satisfied with that so I took a bunch of random pills which left me with

cut up wrists and a massive meadache that stayed with me all night. Later, a

friend told me about trying to kill herself by drinking bleach. She said she

was crying from the headache she had.




I have a friend who tried to slash his wrists in the bathtub.  It was

really sad.  He was really unhappy and all he did was just add to his

misery.  He has scars on his arms he will carry forever.  The police

took him into custody, made him lay on a floor, and one officer put his

boot on Dave's face--on purpose--like it was a table or something,

while they had a conversation about something else.  Dave is a lot

better now, but I think the police and their crappy way of doing things

were as bad for him mentally as what he did in the bathtub.




i did my first suicide attemps... nothing much, it was a cry for help... a few sleeping pills (non prescription ones) and a few slashes on my wrists..i threw them up and . i called ER.. i spent the night there, hoping i'd be hospitalised in psychiatry, but no, i was sent back the next morning with no help....... WHAT A MISTAKE. The year was absolute HELL. I was shut up in a flat, just throwing up all i could, fattening up (bulimia makes you fat), hesitating of throwing myself off the window or not... all alone, i mean, just hell... no tv, no telephone, nothing....... just sitting in the room, ALL DAY LONG.................................................god.........................;horrible................hell....................................; it just built up a year of agony in me, which will explain my further suicide attemps later....


The 25 of November, a Sunday, i come back to my empty flat. I knew it... it's the time.... i'd taked all the strong medication at home, and a cord to hang myself... i'd had a fight with my brother, and like usual my mum had taken his defense... i'd warned them.... i'd even warned the shrink a week earlier i'd do it... i was in tears... i just couldn't take life anymore.. 5 fucking years of bulimia i'd done EVERYTHING on earth to get out of it, EVERYTHGIN... therapy, hospitalisation, shrinks... all... still there..... So anyway.... I took all my medication... all full boxes... 4 boses of effexor 50, two boxes of atarax, 2boxes of xanax and one box of seropram....... thinking about a year ago i'd thrown away my ahtymil... i would had died hadn't i.......... i also hung up the cord to hang myself when i'd be groggy enough..... i put on romeo and juliet on tv, and just relaxed......... an hour later i just collapsed on the floor........; everything seemed blury... i tried to get up but i couldn't... and i laughed interiorly.. and thought "this is the end baby hahahaha"... and i dragged myself to the bathroom to look for my rasorblades to cut my wrists... i couldn't find them i was just too spaced out ... so i went back to where the cord was awaiting me and i tried to get up, to hand myself, because i REALLY  wanted to die... for me there was NO question i would survive.. but i couldn't stand up..... so all night i just dragged myself on the floor, semi unconscious, waiting for my death. At one point i got REALLY  thirsty , so i tried with my mug on the floor (i'm really untidy) to drink water from the toilet, as i couldn't even get up to the sink... but even that i didn't have the strenth... so i turned on the shower and drank there... i was soaking wet... anyway the lady from the…school, the next day, worried not seeing me.. so she called the lady that taked care of my flat unit , that said she didn't see me get out today... so they called the firemen... and i heard them knock in the morning, and i was like "shit" but i thought (totally knocked out" they'd leave me alone... and about half an hour later i saw them emerge from my balcony...I had hidden the boxes of my medecine, to not have the chance to get an antidote, but being so spaced out i told them where i had hidden them (but anyway there was no antidote)......... next thing i knew i was in ER with my crying brother over me saying "why did you do that"......"you're not even fat"....... yes but i'm sick..... i've had a hell of a time.......... all i answered is "i'll do it again, and again, and again, until i'll succeed"......



The next day, i was sore all over, like bruises all over... and my bladder was blocked... so i had to have a urinary thing stuck up my bladder... they said it was because of the massive dose of lasted for about 6 days........


Anyway... there i stayed for a couple of weeks, before i had a fight with the shrink... i tried to strangle myself with a cord (once i've made a decision, the decision is made, and i'd made the decision to die)...and i broke a miror to mutilate myself.......; so i was put in "isolation room".. you know where the bed is ceiled to the floor, the toilets have no bowl, and you have to know like a maniac to call the nurses because there is no bell... yes prison...... i stayed in there about 5 days......

After a bit more time i was allowed out a bit, to visit my parents... so i went home...... i had a prescription close to about 400 dollars of pills... effexor 50, massive doses, zyprexa, risperdal, trileptal.. and all sorts of groggy stuff....... even though it's the most disgusting thing to swallow huge quantites of pills, i swallowed it all....... and i cut my legs, trying to get the femoral vein..... and i spilt ether all over my pillow (great mistake!)........ with my pea brain i didn't think my mum would SMELL the ether, and so she did, and i was rushed to ER where i had my stomach pumped.....


I was put back into isolation room (the shrink was cross!) for a good week !! and for all i stayed 4 months in the psychoward......; with heroin addicts, schizophrenics... when me....... i am bulemic, and very very depressed....... and just so damn sick of living.......




I have had multiple suicide attempts, but clearly none of  them

have worked. Recently I overdosed on Ativan and Xanax. I think it would

have worked if I had taken more but I didn't have more than maybe 20mg

of Ativan and 10mg of Xanax. The great thing about it was I don't

rmember a thing. I aparently was completely confused and trieed to rip

out the IV and get away. I then escaped multiple forms of restraints. I

filled out some questionaire and apparently put down some strange

things. Anyway, I was in a wheel chair for a day because I couldn't walk

straight, then I didn't really known where I was for a few days.

Otherwise it was  a pain free experience.




1.  I attempted suicide I guess about 5 years ago by taking an overdose of Midrin, which contains aceitomenophen (pardon the spelling) as well as some sort of sedative.  I took a month's supply and got sicker than a dog.  I experienced about 24 hours of projectile vomiting, but no lasting effects. 


2.  In another attempt, just over 3 years ago, I overdosed on Ativan.  I figured that part of my problem from the first overdose was that I had taken it all at once.  This time I spaced out the dosage - a bottle of 30 pills taken 2 at a time, 15 minutes apart, with minimal liquid to discourage nausea.  Surprisingly, as far as I recall there was no vomiting.  The last thing that I remember was falling over my sofa and blacking out.   The next thing of course, was waking up in an emergency room.  I guess my stomach had been pumped - I don't know.  I had taken the drug in whole pill form rather than crushing it, and it acted more slowly than I had anticipated.  I also forgot to take into account the effect of the drug itself.  I knew Ativan had a potent sedative effect, but I had never become stoned from it.  Apparently, however, even after 10 or 15 mgs of Ativan, it is possible to become a real chatty cathy - I apparently called everyone I knew!  (I don't actually remember any of it.) The hospital staff were not pleased with my ingenuity, however.  One nurse informed me that "if you keep this up, you're going to kill yourself."




i tried to overdose on 24,000mg of paracetemol a few weeks ago. people said i

should b dead.




I took only 18 aspirin before I stopped myself--I don't know why. I then sat in my room, huddled up in a fetal position and rocking back and forth, calmly repeating (to myself? To no one?) "I am going to kill myself. I am going to die. I am going to kill myself. I am going to die." Over and over. A mantra. I waited that way for an hour or so, then became convinced that the aspirin, a blood thinner, had probably kicked in. So I made the cuts, as deep as I could, and gritted my teeth, telling myself it would be the last pain. Then it would all be okay, just this last pain. I made cuts parallel with the bottom of my hand at first, then perpendicular cuts, trying my best to slice open the vein. With profusely bleeding wrists I went to the bathroom and turned on the shower to as hot as I could stand it. I got in with all my clothes on, something I always considered to be the action of someone who has no more hope and simply doesn't care. I didn't care. My baggy denim pants soon became too heavy for me to stand in, and I was getting dizzy, so I plugged the drain and lay down. The water was an interesting shade of rust colour, and under it I already looked dead. I stared at my seemingly lifeless limbs for a long time--I don't know the exaxct amount. It seemed as though my hands and legs and arms were no longer part of me; they simply existed. It was as though they had already died, waiting for the rest of me to catch up.


I was so very exhausted. My eyes were heavy and it was a struggle to keep up with the movements of the world around me, so I just let them drop.


I assume I slid down farther into the water, though I don't know how long I was inhaling it before I started coughing it all up and regained conciousness. My wrists were barely still bleeding. The water had turned lukewarm. I brought my wrists up out of the water (they still looked dead) and observed how little they bled. I laughed; it struck me as incredibly ironic at the time. Everything after that is a bit of a haze; I remember bandaging my wrists in a robotic, automatic way, and viewing my actions as though I were simply an observer...this couldn't, of course, be me. Afterwards I fell asleep.




I once took approximately 1500 Tylenol, 100 Lortab 7.5, another 500 various over the counter and prescription medications.  I also ate some white bread to help the drugs to soak in and to ease the risk of vomiting.  I began to hallucinate 30 minutes after ingesting the meds.  Just as my eyesight began to black out the police and paramedics broke into my room and took me to the hospital.  I don't remember much besides vomiting the pills up from charcoal and them inserting the nasal tube.  I was on the edge of going into a coma, which from what I understand, would of resulted in death. 




…tried to kill myself using the asphyxiation; two bin liners over my head, ice cubes to prevent getting too hot too!


As you may have guessed it didn't work, it took a while but after a while my breathing got shorter and quicker and more 'gasping' for air, I didn't consciously know I was fading but I found myself tearing the bag off my head. I tried 3 times but each time I couldn't help but rip it off!


Of course I should have tried some drugs as well, but I'm going to try a different method when/if I get round to a 2nd attempt.




I once put my head in an enormous mound of fire ants, and proceeded to let

them eat it. They crawled up my nose, into my mouth, and down my throat.

Someone saw me and pulled me out before they could do me in. Healing took months. l

could not talk, could hardly breathe, and was force fed through a pump, much

like a vegetable.




I thought you would interested in hearing about my attempt with codeine.  Hopefully, it will also spare a few people the discomfort of trying this method without at least some modifications.


I obtained 40 regular codeine pills on two occasions.  Each contained slightly under 30 mg of codeine with no Tylenol added.  In total, it amounted to about 1100 mg of codeine per attempt.


The first time, I took several capsules of Benadryl and all 40 pills.  Falling asleep was a rather pleasant experience, though I think I hallucinated a bit and I shivered violently part of the time.  (These may have been the "seizures" they warn about with codeine use, but they were not painful at all.)  I put a plastic bag over my head and kept my hand on it, hoping that my hand would relax and the bag would tighten once I fell asleep.  I never completely lost consciousness, though, and every time my hand relaxed, I woke up from discomfort of suffocation.  I slept for 30 hours, waking up in the middle to throw up, and felt woozy for the rest of the week.


The second time, I took several capsules of Benadryl, Dramamine, and washed it down with a few shots of 80 proof liquor.  I could not handle more alcohol.  I cannot remember how many pills I took.  It was close to but not the entire 40 pills.  I slept for even longer this time and when I woke up, I felt so nauseous that I could not get out of bed for several days.  The Dramamine prevented me from throwing up the codeine this time, and that coupled with the alcohol left me in an extremely bad state.  The nausea was incredibly uncomfortable.


I would not recommend this method to anyone.  It might possibly work with a far greater amount of codeine, but the LD50 usually given for humans (800 mg) does not seem even close to the amount I think it would take to be effective.  I am a 115 pound, non-tolerant female who has never used any kind of drugs or alcohol before in her life, and 1100 mg didn't do a thing.




…you probably already have enough of aspirin overdoses, but just in case.  I took 68

aspirin (was planning on taking 70, but...I don't know) I started by taking

one at a time, but by the time I'd taken about 20 the over coating had begun

to wear off and it left a disgusting acidy, almost vomit flavor in my mouth,

so I started taking them by the hand full. It took me about 15 minutes

probably to get them all down, and a 12 oz bottle of water. After I finished

I wandered around the house and actually felt normal, for about 10 minutes

maybe, then I began to feel extremely shaky and twitchy.  I sat down at the

kitchen table and tapped my foot, my ears started to ring, but it was

unnoticeable when it started, I really didn't realize they were ringing until

I started going over myself to see how I was feeling.  I tried to check my

pulse, but I was too shaky. Things then began to feel as if they were slowing

down.  At that point I changed my mind, (I know, it's life not something that

you want to mess with, God's greatest gift) but I did change my mind and I

went upstairs and told my mum that I'd taken the aspirin.  She took me into

the bathroom and had me throw up (I've got an eating disorder too, which she

knows about so it made sense for her to have me throw them up rather than

make me go back to the hospital...) I threw up probably between one-fourth

and one half of the aspirin.  She then sent me to bed and, exhausted, I fell

right to sleep.  The next morning (about 3 hours later) my ears were ringing

so bad that I couldn't hear unless someone yelled.  I fell over when I tried

to stand and as soon as I woke up ran straight to the bathroom and threw up

probably the rest of the aspirin.  I then drank 4 bottles of water and threw

that up too, which was quite disgusting because it tasted extremely acidly

and...almost sour, coming back up. I was tipsy for the rest of the day and

slept for most of it, which was odd, b/c I'm usually an insomniac.  The

ringing also didn't fully go away for another day after that.




I intended to die from an overdose of blood pressure

pills(clonodine [sic: clonidine] to be exact at a .3 mg dosage.). I knew it would be

relatively painless but I was unaware of whether or not it would do the

job(I'm sure it would have.) I took differ ant dosages at separate times

I think it was perhaps around a 6 day difference max. The first was

approx. 3.5 tablets at the dosage stated above, it caused a sharp

decrease in blood pressure(for someone w/out hypertension.) results of

this included a black out while conversing on the phone. I'm unaware of

how long it lasted.(several minutes perhaps.) I was also unable to walk

or to move very much for that matter. I could crawl though.(About the

only thing I could do actually.) As for my second use of the medication

in another what I will refer to as an "attempt" due to the fact that it

failed. It was approx 5-5.5 pills that time.(5 if I remember correctly.)

I was on my way to school and I started to notice its effects(I was not

driving.) I went on w/ the normal school day and I was removed from my

first class. I had left a "note" and I didn't think to change a setting

on my computer, which resulted in the discovery of it so that I was

"rescued" before it could all take effect. I did my research to some

extent, I had learned enough from my previous attempt to know it would

take effect in approx 1.5 pills at a time. I was then taken to the ER and

then to a local psych. ward for a stay of 6 days. Oh yes, the ER people

forced me to drink "charcoal" I'm sure your familiar w/ it. I think that

pretty much sums it up.


Another overdose exists as well but that was w/ an antidepressant and a mood stabilizer.(clorkon and depakote.) Why I did that I don't know, over 3,000MG's of Depakote and I think maybe 100-150 Mg's of Clorkon.) Caused an intense unpleasantness in the lungs as if someone had put a hole in them and then had gone set a freezing cold fan in front of them.(Overall it was an extremely cold feeling in the lungs as if a hole were there.)




I attempted partial suspension hanging, using a slipknot and

the method worked perfectly, the only reason I'm still alive

is that i was found very soon (a few minutes) after hanging.

If I hadn't been found I would definitely have died.




I thought that you might like to know about my particular attempt involving neurontin and zyprexa.


I took both prescriptions( 90 /30 pills respectively) and downed them all

with some jack Daniel.  My heart rate sped up a great deal about half an

hour after I took it and the room began to spin so that I could no longer stand

up. I eventually stumbled/crawled/pulled myself upstairs to the bedroom to lie

down. I slept from about 6:30 that night straight through until 7 the next

morning and rose only for a moment or two. The rest of the day was spent trying

to sleep and avoid sound and light since my head was pounding. I felt like I had

a fever :I couldn't get warm, and had a very poor sense of balance that day. I

kept waiting for the other shoe to fall- seizures- but they never came. I have

suffered no lasting effects. With the exception that I am *still* alive.



















I tried 22 (sounds like, Dothiepin) anti depressants.

I could not judge even small distances for 2 days.

I passed out initially, which was great, then had to crawl around because I couldn't stand up.

I even fell over from crawling, seeming to accelerate towards the ground.

None of this hurt.

The only thing that hurt was the realisation that Iwas going to survive the episode.




I initially decided to use the sleeping pills/plastic bag method.

Unfortunately I fell asleep before I could get the bag on the first

time. I woke up in a pool of vomit (I took OTC sleeping pills,

nowhere near a lethal dose.) I was a bit shaken and sleeping pills

cause you to hallucinate (I found that out the first time 5 years

ago.) I continued throughout the night to try and put the bag on my

head but I found that one begins to panic when unconciousness starts

to settle in. That panic caused me to remove the bag from my head

about a dozen times.


The next day I decided to try 'soft hanging' and found that I

obviously wasn't doing it right. I would fade in and out of

conciousness for an hour or more and, realizing that I should be

dead, give up and try another position. After about fifteen

different tries at that I finally decided that suspension hanging

would be the way to go.


Initially it was ideal, I lost conciousness in about ten seconds,

however, something happened and my feet came to the ground and the

rope got slack and I came back to - in a panic. By the way, I had a

rope tied to a necktie tied to a doorknob. After so many attempts I

was weak and tired. I took some time to regain my composure. When

I went back to my apartment I suspended myself again but this time

the trauma of the failed attempts hindered me. After about five

seconds I knew that I had between three and ten seconds to change my

mind and I panicked again. I did not have my hands bound so I

pulled the rope from over the door as I was losing conciousness.

When I came to on my bedroom floor I was delirious. I started

kicking and flailing around. When I tried to get up and walk away

the rope reminded me what was going on. I took it off and that

would be the last time I made an attempt. I was too shaken and

traumatized (for lack of a better word) to try again. The will to

die had faded.




Method: alcohol and xanax in small overdose to relax and overcome anxiety while carrying out attempt - I was hopeful that I'd simply pass out once underway - then cuts to both wrists (both succeeding in severing/puncturing an artery) in a bath of warm water. At some point I woke up in a cold bath of congealed black blood (It annoys me that they always get this wrong in films: a bathful of blood isn't pink, it isn't red, you can't see clouds or tendrils of blood flowing into the water and uncurling artistically - it is BLACK, and slippery, and thick with clots.) Not dead - not expected, to have to deal with this. Fortunately still rather detached from the frightening or painful aspects of the situation at this point, I managed to get out of the bath, and swallowed the rest of the xanax (about 30, 1mg), and a leftover vial of animal tranquiliser I had from flying my dog overseas.  I had put out several bowls of food for the dog, as well as water bowls, including a large, deep soup pot. I was unable to get back into the bath, and so re-cut my wrists until I saw the 'spurt' indicating I'd hit correctly, and put them under water in the soup pot to facilitate the bleeding. I did this on a Friday, when I wouldn't be expected to meet or contact anyone until work on MOnday morning; I not only unplugged the prior to beginning, but took it apart and hid the pieces from myself on two different high shelves; I locked, chained, and shoved a chair under the knob of the door. I was found late Monday afternoon (fire/policemen broke the door down, after being alerted by a neighbour) and taken to hospital. It was estimated that I had lost 2/3 of my blood volume; my hemoglobin count went below 4; treatment included iv fluids and blood transfusion.


Survival of this attempt did not make me 'glad to be alive'; it has not been my last suicidal behaviour. Although good things have happened since, as well as bad, I remain neutral about it: I lived, that is what happened, ergo it can only be evaluated on that basis, not in the 'but would it be better to have died?' sense - I suppose that the extension of this thought is that life, and whether to stay alive, is a choice that must be remade over and over until death, by whatever means, deliberate or not.




Anyway, I had some utility razors (the snap-off kind) and I'd skipped out of school. I made my way a hundred yards or so away to a slightly wooded area and slashed away. The areas cut included the left side of my left wrist (twice) the inside of my left arm (once) and my inside right elbow (once). Blood flow was decent from the first three cuts, but I wanted more so I went for the elbow. This bled freely and powerfully, though obviously not powerfully or freely enough. The blood was streaming continuously down my arm, off of my fingers and to the ground for several hours. Eventually, I went into shock and became nauseous and disoriented. I found myself crawling around the school grounds, dry-heaving collapsing. Soon enough I collapsed for the last time and I could no longer move. Unfortunately, someone was nearby and saw me. Needless to say, I ended up in the psych ward. According to the doctor, however, I did at least manage to lose around nine of sixteen pints of blood in my body and had to be given transfusions and kept in intensive care. I wish I could have just kept my ass in one place for a little while longer.




July 93   bottle of Xanax---not much.

April, 2000  bottle of bourbon & Tyenol PM     1-1/2 days ICU w-respirator

           (Funny thing: I was a day patient at a Pysch Hosp)

April, 2000   1st day back at work   5:45PM   cut my wrists at work

           (Funny thing:  County Psych Hosp dismissed me that night)

July 2000   tried everything I'd heard at the  6 Hosp. admissions----all my

pills---good fight w-paramedics  ( I use to ride ambulance & knew the

routine---I didn't win---I had to go---blood pressure was elevated.




I OD'd on 30 E's [Ecstasy/MDMA] (double diamonds) on Christmas day,

unfortunately still alive as you can see.


        Became conscious the next morning, the room was trashed

completely, there was blood everywhere, I could hardly stand for 24

hours, and was weak for several days.  Blood stains on the walls from

where I had been crawling around and around the edge of the room, over

everything in my way (everything was in a broken heap in the middle, the

ironing board was reduced to kindling).  Cuts and bruises all over my

body, particularly my head.  Dehydrated, very high temperature, my pulse

was also very high, although blood oxygen was low.  Headache for several

days, although not too bad.  Visual disturbances (mild hallucinations)

for several days too.


        I can only remember about 20 minutes from the time I ODed,

everything else is a blank.


        Anyway, someone phoned on boxing day morning, and I eventually

answered after finding the phone in the wreckage.  She realised what I

had done (she knows about some of the previous attempts) & called an

ambulance.  Ambulance driver didn't believe that I'd survived an OD of

that size with E, although the doctors didn't seem too surprised.  Was

put onto an ECG & a blood oxygen monitor for a while, no active medical

intervention was required.  Psychiatric ward for a week.  Apparently I'm

perfectly sane.




The first attempt was made at work - somewhere where I knew people were nearby to intervene. I cut my wrist with my keys. I was absolutely terrified, alone, and had given up on life. I went in to take a shower to wash off the blood, only to make more cuts with a razor blade. I paged my psychologist and had a friend take me to the ER. The cuts were fairly superficial and there was definitely a great deal of ambivalence about my decision. I was admitted to the psychiatric ICU and was locked up in my own room. I was absolutely hysterical. I looked for anything and everything to cut my

wrist with - the jagged edge of a kleenex box, a plastic knife, the unraveled end of a toothpaste tube. I was still suicidal when I left the hospital seven days later. I did "ok" for a couple months before I really started sinking again. I was cutting my wrist on a daily basis. I think this went on for a week before my family found out and took me to

the hospital. This time the cuts were a little bit deeper, and there was a little less ambivalence than the first incident. I was there for five days. I pretended that things were back to normal so that I could get the hell out of there. Things were ok again for a few months, then I started doing it again. If I was upset, I cut my wrist. This time I was

serious about doing it. Several times, the bleeding wouldn't stop and would soak through a huge bandaid. I started overdosing on asprin before I cut my wrist, thinking that just maybe I would bleed a little easier and it would go faster. This went on for over a week before I went into the hosital again. I landed in the ER after overdosing on Compazine (an antiemetic), a handful of Advil, a handful of Neurontin (an

anticonvulsant), and several asprin. I had also made a large cut in my wrist. I was drifting in and out of consciousness on the way to the hospital, and had a great experience having my stomach pumped. My heart rate was irregular. That was the first time I could have really DIED. I was only in the hospital for three days, and left AMA. I wanted to go home. That was in July. I started again in September and almost went

into the hospital again (and probably should have). I cut my wrists for two weeks, then stopped. My boyfriend/fiance told me that he would leave me if it happened again (this was after the third hospitalization). I decided that it wasn't worth it. If I wasn't going to do it all the way, I wasn't going to do it at all. I don't know what the future will be

like. It seems like every time something stressful comes up, I start cutting my wrist or overdosing on medication.




I tried oleander at least 5 times in a 2 week period.  First time I added it

to spaghetti sauce; to calm my stomach I used 1/2 teaspoon dried ginger in a

tiny bit of Sprite half an hour before.  All I did was throw up.  Next try I

made oleander tea, and steeped it with ginger root.  Added sugar so I could

stomach it.  Threw up.  Tried again using Dramamine first.  Tried that at

least 3 times.  Anyway, each time, about an hour after ingestion, major

projectile vomiting, no matter what I did to stop it.   I don't recommend

oleander except for weight loss.  I lost 10 lbs. in a week, gained it back in

2 days.  (Note:  my oleander is a very young plant.  Perhaps a full grown

plant is more potent.)




I took 22 caffine pills (200mg), 9 benadryl (reg. strength), and 4

ibuprofen (800 mg)...  I puked for 12 hours, am now diabetic, and have

an ulcer.




….Of course the way I went about it didn't work and sometimes I am happy that it

didn't and then there are times that I get mad that it didn't.  I took 60

pills of Tylenol PM, and then blacked out for about 8 hrs. until the

paramedics were called.  I was up at college and my sweetmate became worried

about me.  Nothing came of it, I was told by the doctor that I would have

woken up the next day and then would have been dead within a week from liver





i'm now  into my 4th month since my last suicide attempt.i was hospitalized

in the icu for 3 weeks with liver failure ,kidney failure & paralasis of my

right side. another 4 weeks passed until i could walk with the aid of a quad base cane.

yet another 4 weeks passed until i could walk with a very exagerated gait

without the aid of said cane.all this time i could not use my arm for i

suffered from severe nerve damage in upper arm/shoulder due to the way i passed out

on my floor with my arm in a raised position.i can type with my right hand &

wave hello,but am restricted to all things that don't require the raising of

my arm.i have lost everything i had prior to all this horror.i don't even know

how to pinpoint what prompted all this to happen.i went from being miserable &

alive to being miserable,still alive,partially handicapped,massively in debt from

the soon to be arriving medicals bills,isolated from all friends due to having to

relocate to my mothers house 3000 miles away to an area i've never been to

& know no one & embarresed by the fact that i can't cope with this world.


   i took an overdose of pills in conjunction with some alcohol.i even talked

on the telephone to my girlfriend just after i consumed all of the crap,but i

remember nothing from the conversation. weeks later i found out about the conversation.  anyways....the next thing i remember was waking up a few days later with a tube forced down my throat preventing me from even communicating.weeks

later i was told that i was discovered about 8 hours later passed out on the

floor by one of roomates.i had no pulse & brown "goop" was in & around my

mouth.i guess the 8 hours was enough time for all of the pills to damage my

internal organs.the 8 hours on the basement foor was enough to have blood

restricted to my arm & leg.weeks later i was told of how they were weighing

the option of amputating my right leg due to i guess what was compartment

syndrome.luckily they performed 4 fasciotomies on my leg to relieve the

massive swelling.


  i am now left with 2 rather huge scars on my calf , a small scar on my thigh

& a large one on my hip/ass(this one is by far the goriest,i have a rather

large chunk of flesh missing ther.).the thought of ever being naked with someone

again is very will this person react to the ugliness of my

self inflicted pain & its resulting wounds & scars?i feel as though i am some type

of damaged goods.i fear i will be alone due to the danger signs that will go

off in every womans head once they find out i've tried to kill myself twice.


   i am afraid i will never be able to do a push up or play basketball or

have inventive,athletic sex or walk 20 blocks without it taking 5 times as long as

it would have normally.all i can do is hope.i was always afraid to believe in it's the only way i know i will survive.with this thing called hope

& the destinct possibility of being on medication for the rest of my life,I

try to forge on.




We were called 911 to a scene but not told what kind of emergency we had. This

was late at night. A man comes walking to our ambulance holding both hands to

his face. I asked him what happened? He could barely talk and then he was

hard to understand. He had blown off the part of the front of his face. He

had lost some upper and lower jaw and tongue and nose by a rifle. He said he

pulled it away at the last minute and that is why part of his face was gone

instead of head.




My (unsuccessful, of course) method of trying to kill myself, about

eight and a half years ago, was to ingest one full bottle of sleeping

pills and a quart of gin. I walked to the park--I had been up all

night--and passed out on a bench. I have a vague memory of talking to

someone's dog, also of heckling somebody. (Hard to believe I could

remember anything, but I drank quite a lot at that time, a fact partly

responsible for my lousy state of mind.) I don't know what happened,

someone must have made some kind of a call; I remember throwing up, it

was black stuff, into a toilet in a little room made of gray blocks.

Someone must have been holding me by my upper arms as I did so, because

they were bruised later.

     I woke up among more gray blocks, in what must have been another

room of the drunk tank. They let me out sometime in the afternoon. I

remember I had no shirt, but it was summertime.




I ingested approximately 60 Xanax.  These were prescibed to me, along with

the anti-depressant Paxil, four days prior.


My intention was to die and although I am thankful I did not and am doing

remarkably well in therapy and life in general, I become extremely irritated

when some call it a "cry for help"…. 


I took the Xanax at approximately 12 noon that day.  I thought about also

taking a  bottle of Tylenol PM to make sure it "did the trick".  Anorexic and

weak, I had no more energy to get out of the bed I was lying in and felt

completely sure the Xanax would work.


At approximately 9:00 PM, I was surprised to find myself awake.  I vaguely

remember staggering down the hallway of my ex-boyfriend's house.  I am told

that I said, "I need some help" and promptly staggered back to the bed.  I

have no recollection of the ambulance ride to the hospital nor the stomach

pumping.  In fact, I do not even know what stomach pumping entails.  Was I

asleep during this procedure?  I assume there was no anesthia involved,

however, I did have an IV…. 


I do remember having very little control over my motor skills.  It was like

being drunk from alcohol but on a much more extreme level.  I was taken to an

evaluation facility where I was not free to go (51/50) and I do recall

bumping into the walls of the hallway and stumbling around like someone who

has just learned to walk.




I am 15 i have tried to kill me self numerous times my first attempt was because I was "in love" and wasn't loved in return. so I wrote out my will at that time everything went to friends and I slit my wrist I being a brilliant child didn't do it the right way, Attempt

one failed. After learning from older kids I decided to try again this time because me and my best friends weren't friends anymore me and lorna have been friends since second grade, yes we are friends again any way i tried my wrist again and i did it the right way and it hurts like hell they rush you to the hospital and literally piece your veins back together then they tie you the bed so you don't try it again and then you get 6 months of out patient counseling and you are let with really bad scare I have them on both wrist going both ways across and down.  Later I enter seventh grade and i find

myself with the "wrong crowd" the kids how think of nothing more than getting

high and drunk. and boy when you quite hanging out with them you catch hell!!

so i decided dying was my one way at finding peace  so this time i took my

Mom and dads pill (mom's mood swing pills and dad's diabetic medicine) and 2

shots of vodka and i again find myself in the hospital with a tube shoved

down my throat and tie to a bed and another 6 months of counseling well i

think i have gotten better now i still think about it ever once in a while

but i don't do it my advice to any young person thinking about killing

yourself don't.




i took the hose of the vacume and used duck tape to hook it from the

muffler to the window of my car with the window down  a inch or so and

the car in the garage!  the muffler got to hot and melted the vacume



 i should have put the hard plastic part of the hose to the muffler

instead of the flexable part...


needless to say i didnt die like i wanted

had bonged 4 beers in 15 mins so i would pass out after i had things



all i got from this was a hangover :-(




….I took one of the needles from the syringe for no reason. Just to have one around. One night, when I was feeling particularly depressed because my aunt had died of

cancer the month before, I decided I didn't want to be sad any more and found

the needle. I took it and decided to slit my left wrist. I heard you bleed

faster if you cut it verticlly. So I did. Well, I just ended up scraping my

skin away until I reached a vein. It was so painful. Well, I reached a large

vein and started to bleed uncontrollably. Just then my best friend called

just to tell me she missed seeing me and wanted to come over. I told her it

wasn't a good idea but she came anyway. when she arrived and found me half

alive on my kitchen floor. She called the paramedics and they rushed me to

the hospital. I will always be grateful for her coming over. Now I have a

huge, ugly scar on my left wrist right along my vein. I have to look at it

every day. It always reminds me how nice it is to be alive. When others ask

what happened, I tell them it's a burn. I just can't bring myself to say "I

tried to kill myself." It will be there for the rest of my life. I just don't

believe it ever happened.




I took an overdose of Panadeine (paracetamol and codiene),

48 tablets in all, well over the LD50 for someone of my size. Washed

down with a bottle of port. This took about 10 minutes. I felt drunk

first, then about 20 mins later I began feeling a horrible sense of

panic. I was shaky, alternatley hot and cold, sweating and turned red.

I felt like I couldn't breathe, and swigged water as I stumbled around

the pavement. Eventually someone noticed my sorry state and called an

ambulance. I was talking in the ambulance, but lost conciousness on the

way to hospital.


I woke up again and began vomiting (which probably saved my life). I was

covered in tubes and monitors, and made to drink charcoal. When I passed

out again -- I later found out -- my heart stopped and I had to be

revived. After three hours in emergency I was taken to a ward. I spent

all night vomiting and shaking.


I beg anyone considering suicide NOT to try this method. It's scary,

humiliating, hard to imagine feeling much worse...and of course it

didn't work.