The Death and Rebirth, of Myself.
Engl1020 Reflective Essay: The Death and Rebirth, of Myself.
Disclaimer: This essay is personal; if you are the type to judge, please do not read it. If you do read it, do not become the type to judge. I have made a mistake; people make mistakes, accept that, that is all that I ask.
His grip was firm on my hand, yet gentle and kind. He watched me like a hawk, watching my chest rise and fall with every breath, watching my pupils dilate and contract, feeling my pulse in the wrist of the hand he was holding. I kept his gaze as he kept mine, never breaking it for even a moment, while he talked to me, slowly and sweetly. The tone in his voice was calming, yet I recall not a single word.
My mind was busy racing like a train on a light rail. My little sister came to my mind, her innocence, the way she always looked up to me, the heartbreak and pain she would have to endure without me. My mom, the effort she had put into trying to raise me right, and the meaningless waste it would all become. My father who would hate me more than he already does. Then him, the one I fled to for help, the one who caused this in the first place, he would suffer for all of eternity, drown in his guilt, and for what? He would be in pain for doing something that people do everyday, for leaving their girl. Regret flooded my thoughts. I felt as if I was the most selfish person in the world for doing what I did. I realized all the things in my life I cared for, and he was merely one part I would have lost. Now, because of my panic and my actions, I could loose everything. My past, my present, my future.
Dizziness increased, room spinning faster, the floor beginning to flip over my head. I couldn’t regret any longer, I had to put those things out of my mind, and put every ounce of my strength into my life. Stay alive. Don’t die. Regret later. Breathe, focus on breathing, in and out, in and out. Relax slow your heart rate, calm down. Stay awake, don’t black out, stay conscious. I repeated over and over in my mind.
“Where’s the ambulance?” I questioned, “How long till it gets here?”
“I haven’t called one, your going to be okay, just wait you will get better.” Was his response.
My head throbbed, and the twinge my stomach recurred with all its might, I started vomiting profusely as the nightmare began. The slow and steady thud, thud, thud of my heart quickly turned into an irregular and rapid thud thud thud, thud, thud thud, thud. My chest aggrieved with every panicked breath, bringing in almost no air. Wait, relax, breathe slowly, breathe deeply. I kept forgetting in my panic.
“Call 911, I’m getting worse.” I begged.
“Alright,” he replied, looking down at the scattered light pink pill fragments intertwined in my vomit, like blueberries laced in a muffin.
I began shivering. I was colder than I could bear, goose bumps sprung up on my limbs in a wave. My fingers were aching, and stiff. My teeth kept chattering, the sound echoing in my head. My sister, my little 15 year old sister, this would change her forever, crush her innocence, break her heart. I had to keep going, all I wanted to do was let go, but I couldn’t for the sake of her. I had never realized what she meant to me, and what I meant to her until I could loose her forever. Life is cruel in that way, it is hard for people in this world, including myself to realize the importance of others until they are gone, or until they almost slip from our grip.
“Where’s the ambulance?” I asked, once again.
“What?” He questioned.
“Where is the ambulance?” I again asked, slowly and clearly.
“I can’t understand you.” He replied.
I figured the ambulance wasn’t so important, as long as it was on its way. His grip tightened, he told me to hold on for a little longer, and everything would be okay.
“Please don’t let me die,” I requested. “My sister needs me.”
“One more time.” He replied. “I can not understand you.”
“Please don’t let me die!” I yelled, with every ounce of my energy. “My sister needs me!”
“I… I’ll do my best.” He replied following a short pause, as he moved from my side holding my hand, around to my back and wrapped his arms around my waist, holding me tight. I realized how important he was to me, and that because of my actions, I may never see him again. Not even in my thoughts, nor in my dreams because if I ceased to exist here and now, I would have no thoughts or dreams, I would have nothing.
Continuously he talked to me, but I could no longer understand his words. His voice was merely a metallic echo in my head. I could not understand my own thoughts any longer. My chest suddenly held an unbearable pain, and my arms went numb, then my world blurred and slipped away.
Vomit, charcoal black vomit, covering me, things still spinning, no idea where I was, tube in my nose going down my throat. My stomach heaves, I vomit, black, it is then that I realize the thick tar is coming from me. I was attached to everything, six IV’s, EEG, EKG, amfibulator, O2 monitor, oxygen line, and a few dozen circle stickers with wires attached, I felt like a desktop PC. From the observation of these things I concluded I was in a hospital, and alive. I made it, I was told that the overdose made me have a heart attack, and my breathing had ceased. I was dead, for 15 minutes, I died, I had killed myself, done what I set out to do. But, I was revived, I was given a second chance. Even through all the pain and agony I felt, and would feel for days to come, I rejoiced, and felt a true euphoria. I was given a miracle, the gift of life.
Life is fragile. Life is something that people take for granted each and every day. Everyone has heard this before, myself included, and yet no one really thinks that they are personally like this. The only way for the importance of something to become apparent is for the loss of it to threaten you. I have learned the value of life the hardest way possible, not through the loss of a loved one, a pet, or a family member, but through the death and rebirth of myself.
Disclaimer: This essay is personal; if you are the type to judge, please do not read it. If you do read it, do not become the type to judge. I have made a mistake; people make mistakes, accept that, that is all that I ask.
His grip was firm on my hand, yet gentle and kind. He watched me like a hawk, watching my chest rise and fall with every breath, watching my pupils dilate and contract, feeling my pulse in the wrist of the hand he was holding. I kept his gaze as he kept mine, never breaking it for even a moment, while he talked to me, slowly and sweetly. The tone in his voice was calming, yet I recall not a single word.
My mind was busy racing like a train on a light rail. My little sister came to my mind, her innocence, the way she always looked up to me, the heartbreak and pain she would have to endure without me. My mom, the effort she had put into trying to raise me right, and the meaningless waste it would all become. My father who would hate me more than he already does. Then him, the one I fled to for help, the one who caused this in the first place, he would suffer for all of eternity, drown in his guilt, and for what? He would be in pain for doing something that people do everyday, for leaving their girl. Regret flooded my thoughts. I felt as if I was the most selfish person in the world for doing what I did. I realized all the things in my life I cared for, and he was merely one part I would have lost. Now, because of my panic and my actions, I could loose everything. My past, my present, my future.
Dizziness increased, room spinning faster, the floor beginning to flip over my head. I couldn’t regret any longer, I had to put those things out of my mind, and put every ounce of my strength into my life. Stay alive. Don’t die. Regret later. Breathe, focus on breathing, in and out, in and out. Relax slow your heart rate, calm down. Stay awake, don’t black out, stay conscious. I repeated over and over in my mind.
“Where’s the ambulance?” I questioned, “How long till it gets here?”
“I haven’t called one, your going to be okay, just wait you will get better.” Was his response.
My head throbbed, and the twinge my stomach recurred with all its might, I started vomiting profusely as the nightmare began. The slow and steady thud, thud, thud of my heart quickly turned into an irregular and rapid thud thud thud, thud, thud thud, thud. My chest aggrieved with every panicked breath, bringing in almost no air. Wait, relax, breathe slowly, breathe deeply. I kept forgetting in my panic.
“Call 911, I’m getting worse.” I begged.
“Alright,” he replied, looking down at the scattered light pink pill fragments intertwined in my vomit, like blueberries laced in a muffin.
I began shivering. I was colder than I could bear, goose bumps sprung up on my limbs in a wave. My fingers were aching, and stiff. My teeth kept chattering, the sound echoing in my head. My sister, my little 15 year old sister, this would change her forever, crush her innocence, break her heart. I had to keep going, all I wanted to do was let go, but I couldn’t for the sake of her. I had never realized what she meant to me, and what I meant to her until I could loose her forever. Life is cruel in that way, it is hard for people in this world, including myself to realize the importance of others until they are gone, or until they almost slip from our grip.
“Where’s the ambulance?” I asked, once again.
“What?” He questioned.
“Where is the ambulance?” I again asked, slowly and clearly.
“I can’t understand you.” He replied.
I figured the ambulance wasn’t so important, as long as it was on its way. His grip tightened, he told me to hold on for a little longer, and everything would be okay.
“Please don’t let me die,” I requested. “My sister needs me.”
“One more time.” He replied. “I can not understand you.”
“Please don’t let me die!” I yelled, with every ounce of my energy. “My sister needs me!”
“I… I’ll do my best.” He replied following a short pause, as he moved from my side holding my hand, around to my back and wrapped his arms around my waist, holding me tight. I realized how important he was to me, and that because of my actions, I may never see him again. Not even in my thoughts, nor in my dreams because if I ceased to exist here and now, I would have no thoughts or dreams, I would have nothing.
Continuously he talked to me, but I could no longer understand his words. His voice was merely a metallic echo in my head. I could not understand my own thoughts any longer. My chest suddenly held an unbearable pain, and my arms went numb, then my world blurred and slipped away.
Vomit, charcoal black vomit, covering me, things still spinning, no idea where I was, tube in my nose going down my throat. My stomach heaves, I vomit, black, it is then that I realize the thick tar is coming from me. I was attached to everything, six IV’s, EEG, EKG, amfibulator, O2 monitor, oxygen line, and a few dozen circle stickers with wires attached, I felt like a desktop PC. From the observation of these things I concluded I was in a hospital, and alive. I made it, I was told that the overdose made me have a heart attack, and my breathing had ceased. I was dead, for 15 minutes, I died, I had killed myself, done what I set out to do. But, I was revived, I was given a second chance. Even through all the pain and agony I felt, and would feel for days to come, I rejoiced, and felt a true euphoria. I was given a miracle, the gift of life.
Life is fragile. Life is something that people take for granted each and every day. Everyone has heard this before, myself included, and yet no one really thinks that they are personally like this. The only way for the importance of something to become apparent is for the loss of it to threaten you. I have learned the value of life the hardest way possible, not through the loss of a loved one, a pet, or a family member, but through the death and rebirth of myself.
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