My first serious attempt was on my 30th birthday. I didn't plan it like that but it happened. It didn't have anything to do with age; I was married at the time and the night prior, my husband and some friends of ours from out of town came to the city for my birthday party at one of my favorite restaurants, La Esquina.
One of the friends brought this guy who I had previously said I felt was creepy and didn't want him there but lo and behold, a friend brought him anyway. We were all drinking and I got especially hammered.
When we were splitting up into cabs, my husband had left to go home, and I got in a cab with the guy I was avoiding. I thought we were going to all meet up at the hotel but I ended up in the hotel room with the guy. I passed out in the bed and when I woke up the next day I was horrified but also relieved to see my wellies were still on, my jacket, everything. He did ask if he could kiss me once I was awake which I said no, and my mind began to spiral thinking of the fallout…how I was going to explain to my husband, my friends…my mother and step father who were having a birthday dinner for me at another restaurant later that night, on my actual birthday.
3 of us ended up at a rooftop bar day drinking and I started going into alcohol-induced psychosis. I was looking over the edge and it was absolutely high enough for a fatality but I knew I wouldn't be able to pull it off. The place was crowded. I walked up to the bar, stole the corkscrew/knife combination and left without saying anything to anyone. I ran through midtown and found a parking lot that was open, saw some trucks, got underneath one and stabbed myself in the chest and slashed/stabbed my left wrist. I figured if I didn't die from the stab wounds, when the truck started moving it would run me over.
I should've gone for the jugular.
It's been 10 years since that attempt.
Anyway - I'm also reminded of this saying,
"The trick is to die young as late as possible."
When I was eventually found, I was taken to Bellevue - that's where I was given the alcohol induced psychosis diagnosis - didn't realize how it rhymes so well till now.
Bellevue is an absolute pit. Unless it's drastically changed since - the psych ward had one shower for the entire unit, paper towels to dry off with…men on one side, women on the other, separated by the nurses station. When I first got there I was pancaked in blood and dirt and grease from being under the truck. After I was able to shower, the nurses legit didn't recognize me. They were alarmed and thought they had missed a patient but no, it was me.