Just one last breathe? PLEASE

Everything is changing yet nothing is different.
My life is ending - yet I'm still breathing.
I don't know what to say or do anymore. Nothing is right or real or true.
My overdose on Sunday achieved nothing. I didn't want to be saved, well I didn't want my mum to find me the way she did.
My poor flat mate had to call the ambulance then put it on speaker phone so they could tell her how to give me CPR and chest compressions to keep me alive- no mother should have to do that to their daughter. I could have quite ... Happily doesn't seem a fitting word for this post... I could have quite comfortably slipped away in my sleep. I regret texting my mum and my sister and Jenna, that was not fair on them.
At the hospital I was unconscious for most of the night. I started vomiting at 3am then had a seizure at 5am and was medically cleared at 11am. Obviously tramadol doesn't last in the blood as long as paracetamol.
I didn't take as much as last time either so guess that's why I didn't have to stay that long.
I seen the psychiatrist at 1pm who asked me what lead me to od and I told him everything is too much.
Pressure at work, feeling like I'm not doing a good job, my best friend moving to Melbourne, breaking my elbow and not being able to play regionals, not having friends, feeling guilty for eating and getting so fat, my Mental health team showing no support and missing my old team, being alone, being single, being ugly- the list goes on.
He asked me if I had planned this- I said no not particularly... Not for Sunday that's for sure. I just caught up in the opportunity and the little voice inside convinced me it was the right thing to do: they always say trust your intuition right?
He asked me how I was feeling right then: to which I responded : like I don't deserve or want to be here
- maybe by that *here* he thought I meant hospital not the world in general?!
And then I was released to go home and be alone... Which I've now been here since.

Mum is calling Melodie (my old psychologist) to see how I can be transferred back- she is going to say I'm moving back with her for 4 nights a week (not that I am) and if that doesn't work we are looking at inpatient places.
Mum doesn't want me to go ip though, she's worried if I step away from work, friends, life that I'll go downhill... What I don't think she realises is that I'm already heading downhill ...
Next time I won't send a message.

I want to get better - I really do. But 1 hour with a person once a week and a 2 hour DBT group session once a week doesn't seem to be making any difference. I get too distracted with work and lose focus on recovery cos I want to do well at my job and life itself.

I know deep down I don't really want to die but sometimes it's hard to find reasons to keep trying/living
What is my purpose?
What good do I actually bring to anyone?
I am a number in this world of no ones.