I remember being 18. It has been, to date, the best age. I Graduated high school, had a great summer, threw myself a going away party before I started college. Next… I started college. I was so excited about life. about the new adventures coming up. about growing up and becoming a nurse. about the new friends I would make at college. I remember getting dropped off at college. How dad helped my roommate and I get our room set up because her parents were still in Germany. I remember saying goodbye, and being scared to death, until the next day when this crazy girl named chelsie said hi and started the best group of college friends I could have asked for.
Life was good at 18. Really good. And so full of promise... I was positive only good things were going to happen. Looking back, from the advanced age of 23, I know life isn't as easy as I was hoping it would be. I know about different challenges. I know how hard being a grownup really is. But at 18? I had the world and it was mine.
My 18 year old patient has tried to kill herself 3 times in the past 6 months. I look at her, and I know she has no hope. She doesn't look anyone in the eye, but willingly took a massive amount of medications trying to end her life permanently. at 18. I don't know her life story. I suspect it isn't pretty, seeing as how her step mom was the only parent anywhere around, but still. How, at 18, can life look so bleak that you just want to end it? Life is just beginning at 18. The world should be full of hope.
It makes me sad.
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