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Post-Suicide Attempt

I chose the Sylvia Plath poem as my first post and my blog name because I "get" her. Chronically suicidal for years, she finally ended her life at the age of 30. I also have been chronically sad and suicidal for years.


On the morning of October 9th, I tried to take my life with a lethal dose of Aspirin. Specifically, 81,250 milligrams of Aspirin. I swallowed the pills like water and only stopped because the bottle of Vitamin Water I was using to down the pills ran out.
 It became an "attempt" rather than a "success" only because someone heard me crying from the street and came down to investigate. She called 911. 
I'm glad to have survived and I'm glad that I'm ok. I really thought (and so did the doctors) that my hearing was never going to return (due to Aspirin toxicity).
This blog is my attempt to understand and cope with the illness that has framed my life: Bipolar Disorder, Type 1 (formerly Type 2). I hope to learn more about the patterns of my illness, my triggers and better ways to live with this condition. I also hope to help others who are living with Bipolar. Please email me if you have any questions or comments!

Sylvia Plath, on suicide

 "The first time it happened I was ten. 
It was an accident. 

The second time I meant 
To last it out and not come back at all. 
I rocked shut 

As a seashell. 
They had to call and call 
And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls. 

Dying 
Is an art, like everything else. 
I do it exceptionally well. 

I do it so it feels like hell. 
I do it so it feels real. 
I guess you could say I've a call."
Sylvia Plath, excerpt from Lady Lazarus