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I found this image the other day on Cyanide and Happiness and it brought a lot of intense thoughts and feelings back from those days when my illness raged through my life.

Back then, I wanted to die more times than I could count. The physical, mental and emotional pain of my bipolar disorder was at times unbearable. What made it worse was watching myself traumatize my family repeatedly, powerless to stop myself. The weight of my pain plus knowing the terrible things I was doing to those I love drove me to several serious attempts. I have stared into the eyes of Death himself and made him back down.

If I could say there was one thing that kept me from completing a suicide was my son. I didn't want him to have a "conversation" with my grave like this.