I swallowed 24 pills. Half of me hoped 24 is enough. The other half hoped 24 wasn't enough. I told my husband, and he found this bottle, the bottle I bought in 2003 because it was on the list of things you should have in your home when you have a baby. This bottle saved me the the indignity and nastiness of having my stomach pumped and activated charcoal.

I come home, and go back, and come home, and go back - 4 times in 6 weeks, and now it's been 3 weeks that I've been out. Progress.

My rock of support, my mama, leaves on vacation, and we tend Papa's chickens, check the mail, feed the cat and dog, throw balls for the lonely dog. Little things. A schedule. Something that keeps us going.

I think I'm admitting myself to the hospital again this evening. Thoughts of suicide are edging their way back in, and I dream of razor blades, ropes, cars, bags. Going before I hurt myself feels awkward, like maybe I'm just being too fearful of my own thought life. Like wading out in the cold river the first time in spring. I listen to Johnny Cash on the way our outdoor church service this morning, and he sings "Hurt" - a troubled soul covering a song written by a troubled soul - and I nod yes, yes, YES. 

I hurt myself today
to see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
the only thing that's real
the needle tears a hole
the old familiar sting
try to kill it all away
but I remember everything
what have I become?
my sweetest friend
everyone I know
goes away in the end
and you could have it all
my empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt

I wear this crown of thorns
upon my liar's chair
full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair
beneath the stains of time
the feelings disappear
you are someone else
I am still right here

if I could start again
a million miles away
I would keep myself
I would find a way
~Trent Reznor, Hurt~

Performed here by Johnny Cash: