It’s me, I’m the broken one. I couldn’t get my words out. I even brought my husband. It was a horrible mess. I have to wait 3 months to try to get my words out. He gave me ambien prn. I’m okay now, a week and a half ago I was a mess and was minutes away from ending it all. If not for my son being near the kitchen I would have. I didn’t want that to be the last memory of me. Why do I have such a bad time talking to people? Hell I need therapy to learn how to talk to people, like my treatment team. I’m so worried they’re trying to trick me into the hospital I freeze. I couldn’t even tell him about last week. I know I need my meds changed but can’t verbalize it. I’m worried that my silence will be the death of me. On top of that My sister’s mixed and unmedicated. She’s doing things that she’d look down on others and recently took up cutting again. I’m watching her drowned and can’t do a thing to help.