I ended up moving into an extended stay hotel, where I took care of myself for two years. It wasn’t easy to find a place where I could recover. And I had to chop off all my hair because it was full of blood and bone. I had a tracheotomy and a feeding tube in my stomach. My face was gone, so I couldn’t talk or eat or drink. He said I’d been saved for a reason and we were going to find out what that reason was. He told me all that I had to do was heal. When I woke up from my coma, my dad was holding my hand. I remember being annoyed with my mom because she kept making me wiggle my fingers and toes to prove I could hear, and I just wanted to sleep. My mother, brother, father, and stepmother were there. So many friends came by that I was told later they lifted the restriction of only two visitors at a time. I was taken to Fairfax Inova Hospital and was in a semi-coma for three weeks. I remember a man putting his hands on my shoulders and saying, “You’re going to be OK. I had been waiting to see my life flash before my eyes, to see the white light, and none of it happened. I lost two thirds of my teeth, all of the right side of my face, a third of my tongue, and my right eye. I can only imagine what he saw because I blew my face off. That’s what saved my life - he called 911. I heard my roommate scream, “What the hell was that?!” I didn’t know he was home. So I decided that I really did want to die, and I put the gun underneath my chin and pulled the trigger again. Now I know that was the depression talking, but back then, I just didn’t want to be a burden anymore. I thought about how I’d ruin their day by telling them that I had just tried to kill myself. I felt like I had worn out my welcome with everyone. I looked down at my phone and went through my contact list, looking at my friends’ names. I’d only loaded four bullets into a five-bullet revolver. Then I pulled the trigger, and it clicked. I prayed that my family and friends would be OK. I prayed that God would forgive me for what I was about to do. So I decided to shoot myself on the balcony, which was made of thicker wood. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt either of them. I didn’t want the bullet to go through me and through the ceiling because the guy living above me had a dog I adored. 357 revolver, with hollow point bullets, because I knew that would kill me. And then I loaded the gun I had for protection, a. It took me about an hour to decide to do it, and once I did, I felt at peace. One morning, I got up after a sleepless night, and thought about killing myself. I tried to soldier on, to act as if I was going to be OK. I lost my insurance, which had paid for my depression and anxiety medication.
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