Here I go again. Was doing semi-ok for awhile. Now, last 10 minutes, just like someone hit me in the face. The tears just started welling up.

Fugg me. How damn long will the run last? Hours? A day? Week? Month?

Oh the fugging beauty of having no support. Don't see the therapist until Friday. No chance of getting in sooner.

Was hoping that the music would help. It hasn't. As I thought, that coping mechanism doesn't work anymore. I'd say eff it and go for a drive, can't do that either, no car. Thanks for NOTHING Phyllis. Biatch. Wish I would've left that worthless piece of skin you call a son homeless in Seattle. I drove over there twice after that pos. And he pulled that crap, and I lost my car as a result. And not even once did he say that he was sorry. Not one damn word did he say to me. Nothing.

Then wonder why I'm an effing mess. Wonder why I was so damn bad that for months the ideation was so bad. The thought of 'doing it' crossed my mind hundreds of times a day. That I was crying so damn bad that I could hardly breath. I didn't sleep for weeks at a time. I came the closest in 20yrs to killing myself. The ONLY thing that stopped me was my mom. Because I knew that if I did, it would kill her. And that I won't do. So, I'm fine as long as she's on this earth. When she's gone....... I can't promise anything.

I have to go out today and hope that I can hold it together. I mentally scream at myself "eat it!". Meaning to swallow my feelings, not show emotion. I can let it out when I get home.