Spent the night at A&E. DD had taken her third overdose - paracetamol and other medication, so a very scary few hours waiting for blood test results, but thank goodness paracetamol levels were low enough that it shouldn't have done any permanent damage. She'd only seen her psychiatrist this week, so not like she wasn't already getting any help. It had been several years since the last overdose, although in between we'd had to take her to A&E when she was saying she wanted to die (but managed to get her there BEFORE she took anything that time.
What the F are we supposed to do? I'd only just got to the stage where my heart wasn't racing every time the phone rang - but now I'm going to be like that all over again. How on earth am I supposed to cope with permanently living in "flight or fight"?