Greetings all,

There are several on this list who have expressed concern I might not have survived yesterday. So here is a relief note. I am still alive. But it was a close call, and it will probably not be the last one.

So far gone was I that, leaving work early in what can best be described as absolute, mindless despair, I went to the emergency ward of a hospital, announcing I was suicidal. A doctor first quizzed me, asking if I was on alcohol or drugs, what I had eaten that day, etc. When answering that last question, I realized that, irony of ironies, I had been abstinent all day long, for the first time since I have forgotten when. I was too emotionally exhausted and devastated even to overeat.

The emergency psychiatrist saw me and asked about my support groups, friends etc. I told him I had cut off contact with my immediate family and did not feel comfortable talking at a close personal level with the extended family. I said I had no friends outside my programs and inside the program seldom called people, and when I did talked only about sobriety and abstinence and not how I was feeling inside. (Another irony: he had heard of AA but not of OA or SA).

He was impressed that I went to four meetings a week, plus a therapist. So his assessment of me was that these actions were a sign of enough personality strength to survive, and that he did not recommend hospitalization. That was something; legally, a person who turns himself in at a hospital with suicidal urges may not be released without a psychiatrist's permission.

I said that I did not know how long I could handle the terrifying loneliness, the aching despair, and the mindless agony of it all. Often minutes seem like days. He replied that medication at least would take several weeks to take effect and nothing could accelerate the process, and similar slow progress could be expected from therapy and meetings. He made it clear that I could stay in the hospital if I chose, but I would probably recover faster in my own home than in a psychiatric ward surrounded by schizophrenics, drug addicts, and manic-depressives.

So I decided to take the risk of leaving the hospital, and am at work today. At least I am in the office, albeit not actually in any state to accomplish a significant amount of work. I also decided to come clean with my boss and tell him my productivity would be sub-optimal for several weeks. He is clearly skeptical on whether depression is really a bona fide illness or just a blue mood ("oh come on, just fight it!" was his first remark) but seemed willing to give me a chance, especially when I offered to obtain a medical certificate. My job thus appears safe. That is something.

To "celebrate" I binged for breakfast, and am writing while binging, in fact. I discarded my packed lunch and ate a lunch that consisted of nothing but dessert. I know this is nuts - as someone posted recently, bad eating patterns can exacerbate depression - but I want it so badly.

How do I feel? Still, desperately lonely. People I call from the programs seldom wish to talk about anything else. If I call them and say "I'm feeling desperate and suicidal" they reply "Don't overeat about it". Some are skeptical about therapists, medications etc. saying "half measures like that will avail you nothing". Some even seemed to berate me, saying "stop whining and wallowing in self-pity and care about others for a change".

Should I care about others? I feel deeply guilty that I don't; but yet I feel utterly drained, unable to do so. I sometimes wonder if I am not a burden to this list, dragging people down. Yet this is my experience (strength and hope are all but nonexistent).

So I still feel desperate and alone. Even if I don't commit suicide, life is a living hell, a long nightmare of crushed emotions, stabbing heartbreak, and either rages of greed or tired inability to eat.

Oasis, Aug. 22, 1996.