Why

It's hard to explain to people how quickly something can spiral downward into complete despair. And the immediate NEED for it to stop. The anguish is indescribable and the immediate reaction is to end it. On my desk is a week's worth of pills for the morning, and another one for the night. If I'd had something to drink up here with me, I might have started with Monday and just kept going.

The fucked up part is the reason I might not have. When I was in high school, I'd make sure my homework was finished before I attempted suicide. That way, in case I didn't die, I was ready for the class the next day. By the same logic, if I take these pills and don't die, now I'm short pills for the rest of the month. Fucked up thinking.

------

I'm feeling a bit better now, which oddly makes it difficult to express exactly how I was feeling. Like I can't describe that depth without actually being there. Maybe that's why people who don't suffer extreme depression can't quite grasp how it could happen. When I'm that entrenched in it, I don't feel like I'm in a hole. I feel like I'm in a room way down deep in the ground and I don't see ANY light. I'm not even aware that a light even exists. If someone tries to tell me it's there, I don't believe them. All I want is for the pain to STOP. NOW.

Sometimes, I wish I'd never told anyone about my suicide attempts. All the treatments I've been through, all the resulting crap I've been through... I don't usually feel like I'm better off now. Maybe other people are, but, call me selfish, I wish *I* felt better about it all.

My psych MD wanted me hospitalized over Thanksgiving weekend, because my support system was non-existent and the risk of me harming myself was high. I refused because my parents would have to find out, and that's the LAST thing I want them to know. I don't need the added stress of that, and I told my MD exactly that. Instead, I've agreed, actually requested, that I take part in an outpatient intensive therapy program that lasts a week. It involves classes, daily check-ins, and generally a support system that I otherwise lack. I've done this before, when I was released from one of my hospitalizations.

That's what sucks the most about this. It feels like nothing has changed in six+ years. Whose Line is about all that can make me laugh, and the rare wisecrack someone on-line makes. It's tough to have all my support on-line. I can type and let out my feelings, but a virtual hug has NOTHING on a real hug, and sometimes that's what I need the most. Except for my daughter, the only hugs I get are from the Whose guys. It's SO comforting I can't begin to describe it. They're some of the very few people I let get near me, and definitely the ones I see the most often. How pathetic is that?

I don't want to feel pathetic anymore. I feel so stuck I don't want to deal with this anymore. I want it to STOP. AGAIN.