If I ever really lost my shit, I'm not sure they'd know what to do. So I just bury stuff.
Seems the running question of my life in going to various therapists. "Feeling suicidal today?" A few are versed and keen enough to just let a person open up, then if they seem off on some foul mood ask if everything is alright, coding the question. I don't worry so much over taking my own life.
My mom tried herself about thirteen different times, serious attempts despite their failure rates. Knew friends that after seeing a brother die took their own lives in jail. The jail time was because they wanted to go fuck up the guy that ran over their brother, and had showed up trashing their car in their driveway. Had other friends that well, there's where they haunted, some got lost, some still remain.
Had a Big Bro from United way, turned out a bunch of us 'kids' were deemed not just at risk of suicides but already lost. We formed our own damn family just to piss off United Way. What they thought of us had slipped and us kids were all too smart or too empathetic to pick up on it, rubbed all of us wrong. Some group of altruistic adults helping children that gives up on the kids, yeah, gee.
My worry is over dropping my guard, letting the anger, cold rage light up an inferno. Yet a few years back some "stupid sum-a-butch" with papers calling him a PhD and MD in p cycles tells me, "you can relax and quit keeping yourself outside it all" He further told me the monsters and demons I lived with couldn't hurt anyone. All this and more after interviewing me for ten minutes. Sure some can be so good, but this one wasn't some & surely not so good.
Since then, his planting the thought give me a goal. And yes, I can drop my gourds, now. Hell, I can even be angry and lower a boom sounding like my Pap talking all gruff and stern. The world doesn't rain red, amazing I think.
But, ... and you already know. I see it behind your shades you do.
So, I betta go gits that
stuff in myself, maybe some oatmeal. Need to fill what meds remain for my weekly dispenser. Ha ha! No mental meds any more. Except vistoril(sp), stuff that gets the anxious/agitated histamine and beats you into PDFO (Passed De Fuck Out) land. Yeah, unfortunately I need something for Wally World panic attacks, I do sing Drowning Pool's Bodies hit the floor in there.