I can't stop thinking about this depressive episode I had in high school, long before diagnosis.

I helped in the guidance counselor's office so I knew him well and we had numerous meetings when I was falling apart (depressed but my parents refused treatment). He was this short, stocky, very strong man who made me feel really safe.

So at some point I became suicidal and had a plan and intent. My best friend got me to admit it and told him. That night at a track meet (he was a coach) he pulled me aside under the bleachers and kindly but sternly talked about what a bad option that was, I had better options, and I was NOT going to harm myself.

Looking back it is disconcerting. I had every reason to be involuntarily admitted and I would assume that would mean against my parents' wishes. (There was a whole big thing protecting my mom from children's services beyond offering counseling and I might have said too much at the hospital. I think that was the reason. Same reason the abuser wasn't removed from our house by children's services. Same reason when my children's services therapist quit she buried my file. Etc).

But when I feel really down and want to take a few handfuls of PRNs instead of 1 I often think back to that lecture, a result of both caring and avoiding the real issues.

I have no point here....sorry for blabbering