So, this is my beginning. This is how I stay sane. This is where I will record everything I've had to deal with lately. No one who knows me in real life will ever see this and somehow that is quite liberating. I feel I could "shout it from the rooftops" so to speak. So...here goes. I am dealing with a suicidal parent. There. I said it. I never thought that I would be writing those words. But here I am. Surrounded by friends and family, yet utterly alone in this situation. My sibling is useless. He is too wrapped up in his own life to even see what is happening. My spouse is amazing and has been my shoulder to cry on, but I feel lousy putting all this on him. He's been very supportive and has listened patiently while I unload all my fears. But, in the end, it's my mother. My mother who is hanging on by a thread. You see, the last 8 years or so have been a living hell for my parents. They lost their home. My grandfather died a cruel and unfair death. My father had a series of strokes that has now left him unable to work. My mother has to shoulder the responsibility of bringing home the bacon. I realize that there are worse things that happen to people everyday. But when it's "your people", it's different. My mother slowly began to have bouts of depression followed by long intervals of sleep. The depression kept coming more often until it became a norm. Sleeping the weekends away because it was just too much to deal with real life became the norm as well. I was getting worried, but truthfully, my mother has always teetered on that thin line of "highly emotional" and manic depressive. I was used to things never being easy with her and I figured it would eventually get better. I was wrong. So wrong. She began to throw the idea of killing herself around . At first it was sort of in a light manner. Disturbing, but I chalked it up to her flair for the dramatics. Then it became an almost daily thing. "I really just want to blow my brains out" "I just want to take some pills, go to sleep, and never wake up" "If this is what the rest of my life is going to be like, no thanks." She began to tell me her bank account numbers, how to access any money they had in case anything happened. What is a daughter to do? What is a daughter to say? I felt totally helpless. Then came the darkest day yet. She was gonna do it. She kept saying that she felt so hollow inside. Dead. Nothing could be made right again. She litterally tried to run away from me down the street to go anywhere to carry out her dark wish. I had to grab her, hide her car keys and absolutely beg with all I had within me for her to please stop. Think about Dad. Think about me and my brother. Think about my son, her grandson, who worships the ground she walks on. I finally got her to stop and sit down. We just sat there for what seems like an eternity. Somehow, the day went on and she was a little better. She refused to go see anyone. She's afraid they will put her in the hospital. As the weeks have passed, things have gotten a little better. She has made a phone call to a therapist. No appointment yet. We'll see. I'm trying to take it one day at a time. I have to talk her down from the ledge about once a week now. She's begun to rely on me for nearly everything. I think I can handle it for now. For now. Funny, what about later? If I break, then what? I think a piece of me died right there on the front porch the day I stopped her. The piece of me that still looked at my parents with child like eyes. The piece that thought I would always be their little girl. The piece that still believed God would somehow step down from heaven and intervene miraculously. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure God has a plan, but I was hoping for cloud-parting, angel appearing, booming voice from the sky kind of intervention. I find it sad that part of me is gone. She was awesome.