What do I do?

It's officially Saturday, 2:06 am on my computer clock, but I know that is at least 10 minutes fast. I'm not in bed and I'm certainly not out driving the kidlet around somewhere, so we now all know what that means. In addition to the drinking, I'm lost in thought about what to do come Monday. I hate when I start thinking about things I don't have the energy to think about. All it does is create a mound of frustration piled onto all the crap I'm already dealing with.

Monday actually isn't the day to focus on, Tuesday is. Since the musical doesn't even let out until 10:30 pm Sunday and we still have to drive home afterward, the kiddie will probably stay home from school Monday. Monday will be spent making preparations. Making sure she has food she wants to eat for the week and any personal items she might need. Making sure the bills are paid. Making sure the laundry is done. All the boring, mundane tasks of life.

Come Tuesday, what do I do? That's the real test. I told my therapist I wasn't suicidal, but I was so angry when I came home from my appointment with her that I climbed into bed and imagined all the different ways I could take my life. Some were more creative than others. Some were obviously nothing more than a plea for help rather than an actual desire to die. Others were clearly deadly. I didn't choose any of them, I just watched them pass by, the only member in the viewing audience.

My therapist suggested that now would be a good time to carry around my safety plan and look at it often. It's not so much a safety plan as a "you're a mother, you can't give up for your daughter's sake" plea. On the front it tells all the reasons why I can't give up because of my daughter. On the back it says "if I'm having serious thoughts of harming myself or I am trying to convince myself the info on the other side is false, I need to....

- Call my sister. She may not know what to do but she'd rather listen to my sob story than plan my funeral.

- Tell my therapist.

Calling my sister is out. With the recent passing of her father-in-law, her losing her job, her hubby not getting regular paychecks because the business he owns is extremely slow....she's got enough on her plate to worry about without me adding to it.

That leaves, tell my therapist. What the hell do I tell her? I'm a fucking nutcase? I'm pretty sure she knows that. That I'm not doing well? She already knows that too. That I'm entertaining the idea of killing myself? Despite what I told her, she's well aware of that too. That I'm binge drinking? She knows that.

I'm so confused, nothing makes sense. I'm having that feeling like I've been locked out of my own brain by the two entities waging war in there. All I hear is "die", "live", repeated over and over and over. It's so deafening, so distracting, that I can't even focus most of the time. At this moment in time, it's distracting me and I keep wondering why there are tissues all over my desk. I don't remember pulling them out of the box and I'm not crying, so I haven't a use for them. Yet each time I throw them away, it seems like I look back at my desk and there are more tissues sitting there again.

There's a commercial on tv, I don't know what it's for, but I'd love to find myself in the midst of it right now. People suddenly see the answers to the questions they have or are given knowledge that could have a positive effect on their life. I think one such instance is someone sees a billboard at a train station that says "Mr. Right is two cars down", or something along those lines. I want the answer for what I should do to magically appear, but I know it's not going to. It'll be lost in the haze, the fuzziness of confusion that reigns in my head and I'm worried I'm going to make the wrong choice.