My darkest day

Picture the scene. I'm lying on my bed with my laptop. My friend Lisa is setting a clock that will remind me to take my medication, because I don't want to take it and I deliberately forget. She's having trouble figuring out the clock, and all of my deepest, geekiest urges compel me to help her. But I will not. I don't want to help her. I want her to go away. I don't want to get better. A minute ago I almost said, "Fuck you" to her. Lisa is a dear, dear friend. I love her very much. I would never, ever say anything like this to her. But she asked for it. She asked me not to die, not to give up. She asked me to stay alive for four more miserable weeks, while I wait for some bullshit promise about how I'll feel better.

Well, since I'm not looking you guys in the eye, it's a little easier to say. Fuck you. All of you who want me to live. Zoe, my daughter. Caryn, my best friend. Diana, with whom I'm closer than when we were married. Lisa. Maura, my therapist. Simone. Linda. Greg. Cathy. Fuck all of you.

Now she's dumping out all of my other pills so I won't overdose.

What a miserable fucking day. A couple of days ago I realized that I don't want to live any more. At first, I fought the thought. I have been working really hard for two straight days trying to distract myself from the fact that I don't want to live any more. But the feeling has intensified.

My doctor called me yesterday to discuss medications. He wants me to take Prozac. I've heard that Prozac sometimes causes people to go psycho and kill themselves, or sometimes just to die. When he told me to take Prozac, I was encouraged. Maybe this is my chance to escape this life. I realized at that point that I do not want to get better. I'm done. I want out. Fuck all of you.

I've been sitting here all day trying to figure out how I can kill myself without any pain, and without my friends discovering me here in this revolting, Unabomber state. I thought for a while that I might drive away so no one will find me, but I'm too tired to get up. I need help to kill myself. I realize that Lisa is my only friend who would even consider allowing it. So I called her. I told her that I haven't made any decisions yet, but I need her to hold my hand if I decide to do it, and I need her to help me not to be discovered in this freakish state.

What I didn't plan for was Lisa calling my therapist, Maura. No, Lisa, I'm not angry at you. I understand that you want me to make sure I've explored all the options before making an ultimate decision. What Lisa didn't plan for was Maura's legal obligations as a therapist. Maura explained that she would have to call the cops and utterly destroy the last pathetic shred of decency I have, unless Lisa could get me to make some statement that sounds sane and non-suicidal.

So Lisa comes over, and I hear her coming into my house. She always does this and is welcome, but I didn't realize that it was she, so I hopped up out of bed, naked, with blanket half wrapped around me, and there she was. So I'm all humiliated. She explains that I have to talk to Maura.

Maura secures a promise from me that I'll live at least until Tuesday at 3pm, our next appointment. Today is Sunday. Two more days of this shit. I don't have to keep my promise. But Lisa won't help me now; somehow Maura has convinced her to work against me. I'd have to die alone, and I don't know if I could do it. Maura also wants me to go get the meds or something, and I say the most shameful thing I've ever said in my entire life: "If you think I'm worth saving, then you do it. I refuse." It was at that point that I almost said, "Fuck you." Maura, I hope that what I really said made sense. On reflection, I'm afraid that it might have sounded like a come-on, and of course that would have been par for the course with me. I hope that you understood: the tone of voice that I was using with you does not correspond to the genuine appreciation and friendly affection I feel toward you. I was shocked the whole time to be talking to you that way, to have those feelings while talking to you. I'm sorry.