One Last Toast with My Friends
“My diagnosis is identified with irrationality, illusion, fantasy, myth, sensual seduction, the imposition of will, and inhumane indifference to ethical, religious, or cognitive considerations.”
“Contesting Admission.” (J. Peters, 2008)
Birds were chirping, the sun was out, and I was in the heyday of my young adulthood. On the exterior, I had above-average looks, more than enough friends, and a supportive family. Rocking out, jamming, and head-bopping to Stevie Nicks and Fleetwood Mac, I was either driving around listening to music or partying with my friends.
At face value, I was your average New London University student. Inside, I couldn’t have been more miserable. I had recently dropped out of college and was working at a Nissan dealership, selling cars for a living. Little did I know what the next six months would bring as I dove headfirst into what was the most transformative summer I ever had in New London or at any other time in my then-twenty years of life.
“Cheers!” I said. I still remember giving a toast with Kim and Patrick; my two friends that had made it up to New London before our other friends arrived, bringing with them a few shots of cheap Vodka and a full bottle of sleeping pills. After every successive shot of liquor, I snuck off into the bathroom to swallow another dozen or so sleeping meds. Noticing my behavior becoming increasingly bizarre and erratic, Kim went into the bathroom and found an empty bottle of generic sleeping medication I had used and forgotten on the counter.
I could maybe say this was because I had just broken up with my girlfriend Dorothea. The first real romantic relationship in college. I really should be very cautious when I say “real,” though. Nothing was real about this relationship. Sure, we were intimate and connected emotionally, but the entire affair was as difficult as it was psychologically rife with abuse, anger, and resentment of each other and our respective behavior. By the time the relationship ended, I was ridden with emotional pain, tormenting myself over the mistakes I had made throughout. My goal was to exact one last vengeful blow to her, and this was my plan for doing just that.
Soon after, Kim came back from the bathroom with my empty bottle of pills in hand. I flatly denied taking them. Before I could protest, the effects of the medication were already beginning to take control. Immediately, they rushed me into Patrick’s car. Soon after, I found myself in the emergency room at Burgdorf Hospital. I began to stumble around and finally collapsed on the floor.
