“If there is a worse place than hell, I am in it. What shall I do? […] The bottom is out of the tub.”

Preach it, brother Abe. I find it slightly ironic that the above quote comes from a man who also had a history of sever depression and was know at times to have been suicidal. But that is really neither here nor there.


Just one hour shy of nine months no SI. I'd really like to make it to nine months. And ten. And eleven. And a year. Now, realistically speaking I'll more than likely make it to the nine month mark (I can't do just one thing at a time and since I am currently playing around on FaceBook and YouTube it's entirely possible that I will make the nine month mark before I finish this blog entry). That knowledge does not make things any easier, however. Because the reality is is that I desperately want to take that razor blade, the one I've saved for just such a time, and draw it across my wrist. Not to kill myself. I'm not to that point yet. Just to hurt. To bleed. (lord, you would not believe how badly I want that.) And I already feel bad enough. I was already having a hard enough time resisting temptation. It's been some time now since I've had my Wellbutrin and about a week since my last dose of Zoloft. I hate that I'm so dependent on them. I hate that, relatively speaking, it has been such a short time without either of my meds and this is what happens. I go, almost instantly, back in to a depression. I'm exhausted in spite of the fact that I am sleeping, on average, at least 12 hours most days. I hardly eat (which I've actually found beneficial as it seems that avoiding food keeps at least a couple of the withdrawal symptoms at bay). I spend an inordinate amount of time staring vacantly ahead. And now I am faced with yet another difficulty.

How do I do it? How do help her from half a world away? When I know how she's feeling and understand the fear so well, the fear that this time things won't get better. When I have felt the hopelessness myself. When she does not want to hear me. She has already made up her mind, you know. Something like a week to take care of things and then 'everything will be fine'. I tried everything I could think of, what little that was. Mostly I told her that I loved her.

How do I sit helplessly by and watch my friend fall apart and eventually take her own life? How, when I feel this bad already, do I do that and manage to hang on to my own?