That title is a grave understatement. This one could, by the very nature of the subject matter, turn out to be one of my darkest ramblings ever. I'll let that be the disclaimer.

Where do I begin?

Let's try last night, right after the last rambling left off.

Last night's rambling -- I experienced what turned out to be a very precarious and temporary emotional stability.

...

I can't go on with this one. Yes I can. I can. I have the strength within me. Let's continue.

I went to the store after the rambling, bought some snacks, and watched a most entertaining episode of Xena: Warrior Princess.

Events which happened after that are NOT fuzzy in my mind, but I almost wish they were.

I'm getting a headache right now. I will go on. Not only that, but I'll finish this in time to watch the X files.

The emotional turbulance started again. I sent an email message to the one I formerly referred to as my mentor, asking if I was even worthy of guidance after the mistakes I had made. (The funny thing is, on this occassion I can't even point to a single specific mistake. Just a vague pattern of communications, that, while not blatently egregious, were less than desirable.)

The pattern of self-abuse worsened. Something I had started doing earlier Saturday morning came back. I physically hit myself in the forehead, slapped myself on the cheek. Hard. More than once.

My [former] mentor's response came fairly quickly: "I have nothing more to teach you."

Fair enough, I said. I sent another message asking if we could still talk on friendly terms, sans the mentor title. There was no response that night. Since it was 1am, I presumed my mentor had gone to bed.

Then, another wave of inner turmoil hit. Worse than before. Suicidal thoughts. Or maybe suicidal wishes. That was nothing new. I had had those the night before. On Friday evening, it had gotten bad enough that I had attempted to put myself out with a combination of every type of sedative in my posession.

On Friday, it had sort of worked. Funny story, in fact: Just as I was getting really hazy, right out of the blue, Jaeger hailed about problems he was having with ipchains. Since I'm not exactly an ipchains guru anyway, I doubt I would have been much help even if I had been truly lucid. As it was, I managed to babble a little bit of semi-coherent instructions, but the effort turned out to be futile. Neither of us knew what was wrong.

Anyway, back to last night. Awful was the word. The dark thoughts had escalated to a new level. I didn't completely trust myself not to act anymore. I didn't really think I would go through with it, but still.... It's hard to explain these things.

I did something I have never before done in my life. I called suicide hotline. After a brief wait, I was connected with... some doctor-type person. I attempted to explain my situation as best I could. After they reach a certain point of intensity, it's hard to explain such feelings in a way other human beings will understand.

After we were able to conclude that I was not an immediate physical mortal danger to myself, she gave me the number of a clinic to call on Monday morning. Asked if I would be able to sleep the night. I said I'd try, and I probably would be able to eventually.

She asked what I planned to do during the day on Sunday. I said I didn't know for sure. That I'd probably hang out around the house, maybe play some video games or something. She asked if I had anyone to call who I could maybe get out of the house and do something with.

I replied that I couldn't think of anyone nearby who I could call.

She still advised me that she thought it would be a good idea if I got out of the house. Outside. That often doing so helps to relieve the trapped, isolated feeling. I said I'd see if I could do something.

So I know what I'll be doing tomorrow morning. (I haven't yet decided if I want to call in sick from work. I'm thinking I can probably work it into my morning schedule somehow, although the day tomorrow promises to be hectic at any rate.)

The mental health professional said I could call back if there is anything I need, and asked if I felt like I could make it until Monday. I responded in the affirmative. That concluded the conversation.

I did manage to get to sleep before too long. I consciously fought back the urges to continue the self-inflicted slaps on the face. "No. I will NOT do this to myself. I will not." I know it sounds like nonsense, but restraining required effort. I went to sleep.

I woke up earlier than I would have preferred. 6:30am. I still felt awfully tired, but I was having trouble getting back to sleep. A few archived jpegs of naked women on my hard drive did the trick.

I woke again. Must have been around 9:30. I decided to follow the advise given the night before, and packed up a bunch of cds, my new books if I should want them, and some chips. I had a full tank of gas. I listened to Tori Amos's Little Earthquakes as I drove up into the mountains.

Estes Park: I felt rather silly, but the air was rather refreshing. I contemplated going on a walk around the lake. 50 meters in the cold later, and I decided that idea was a no-go.

I headed back to town while listening to songs from Madonna's Something to Remember album. I love mountain driving.

[I'm not gonna make it in time for the X's.]

I knew what I wanted to do when I got back to town. To a record store, where I had a specific album in mind to purchase, and I didn't even mind paying their inflated prices. I've never been too much of a U2 fan, but there is one song on their latest album that just hits me right in the heart. Especially today. Beautiful Day. I considered that song alone to be worth the purchase price.

I wandered up and down Pearl Street for a while, enjoying the street performers. I picked up a book on Buddhism which I found much more comprehensible than the Tibetan Book of the Dead. Saw Jamie Janover, listened to him play for a bit, and dropped a dollar in his bucket.

Ate some pizza. Read part of the first chapter in my little intro to Buddha book.

Returned home while listening to U2. The final leg of the journey from Boulder to Louisville was spend preparing myself for the likely rejection I would face. I wasn't prepared for what I got.

Walked into my room, opened my email box, and out jumped a viper. As if I needed even more help adding to the abuse I had inflicted upon myself. A good thing I had taken the kind woman's advice, gotten out of the house, and treated myself with a little kindness during the day. Otherwise, I might have been flattened by it. Gone right ahead and taken the poison.

As it was, I was feeling some tiny measure of inner strength. So I did the best I could to defend myself while attempting NOT to send any nasty daggers back.

I guess you reap what you sow. What I got, I had coming from back in October. I think the message my "mentor" sent today was similar in measure, tone, and viciousness to the one I let fly all those months ago. It seemed that way, at least.

I managed to stay on my feet (metaphoically speaking). I knew I wasn't going to last long though. I had to get out of the house again. Sitting and staring at the screen was going to land me back in the realm of of self-torture.

I went to a movie. I planned to go to a different, theoretically much more fun movie, but the ticket sales, combined with my timing, did not agree with this. The one I saw did keep my mind fairly occupied for the duration though. I'll give it that. A log entry has been written.

Okay, that's my ramble. Hurray, I have nothing else to say. I'm gonna go watch the remainder of tonight's X Files.