Fear, Depression, and Recovery Part II

So after the emotional bomb that was dropped on my lap last Wednesday I was extremely fragile.  Thursday I spent most of the day in bed or reading the documents again.  I was so miserable emotionally and physically that I was losing the ability to care.  That isn't to say that I don't love my children more than anything or that I don't love Tim - sometimes the heart just cannot bear the burden it is expected to carry.  Our life became more complicated on Friday morning around 3:00 a.m. when the oil burner for our furnace began leaking oil into our home.  We all immediately got dressed and grabbed our stuff and were off to Tim's parents for a few hours to try and make a game plan.
At this point, though I was not sharing my emotions with Tim or anyone else, I was completely spent and done.  First the car dies and now this.  Who did I piss off in a past life?  I know that Karma is a bitch but seriously, what did I ever do to anyone?  I was at the lowest point I had been since I was 19....and sinking fast.
The kids and I went to a friends house on Friday and hung out for the afternoon and I spent the night.  The nurturing I received from K&C was exactly what I needed.  They knew about the papers (I had sent them a copy), they felt and understood my pain, they fed me both literally and spiritually but it didn't seem to matter.  I was still sinking.  That I could be so loved and still sinking terrified me but I kept my thoughts to myself.  How could I explain to everyone who loves me that suicide seemed like the most logical decision?
I spent Saturday with D&J and they were a great distraction.  Laughter rang from me but I admit that most of it was hollow.  It was as if my body was there but my mind was 10 feet away watching everything unfold and wanting to run faster and faster away from everything and everyone.
Sunday morning I came home and (through the horrible smell of oil that Tim had been furiously trying to rid) told Tim that I was overwhelmed in every sense.  I shared where my thought patterns were going.  Most of which he knew from living with me for almost 17 years and what I had shared with him over the last few days but he had no idea that I had become suicidal.  We talked about what options I had - should I call my therapist? doctor? go to the hospital?  I decided that I would call my doctor and therapist.
My therapist told me on the phone that she would meet with me in 40 minutes.  She also told me "use your brain Tamara!".  I must admit to being angry about that.  I was using my brain and every cell said that your friends and family would be much better off if my crazy ass were not here.  They would not have to deal with all this garbage that I carry on my heart, they wouldn't have to deal with chiari, fibromyalgia or arthritis, they wouldn't have to take care of me if I end up in bed again or in the hospital - they could have a normal life which is what I want for them.
When I saw her 40 minutes later I asked her about the comment (I was offended) and she said that she was referring to the documents: how could I have expected to read them and NOT be completely knocked off my foundation for a few days?  Though that should have made me feel better it only made me angrier.  I thought I could handle it.  I believed with the very core of my being that reading those would be no different than reading the paper.  They were words on a page that I had lived.  If I come across paperwork from when I had my children, I don't think of the horrible, burning, pushing pain of childbirth....
I admit that I am suicidal.  She calls my doctor who gets on the phone with me and asks me if I have a plan.  I plead the fifth.  In case you are wondering, that does NOT work with doctors who think you are suicidal and tends to make them even more worried.  I am not given a choice and told to go to the crisis center.  I try and bargain but needless to say, I end up at the crisis center.  Having a doctor that you respect more than almost anyone in the world is wonderful and can also suck.  If she had been anyone else, I would have told them where to get on the next train to screw yourself and would have walked out of the office.  Instead, I call a friend and head to the crisis center.