I finally had some hope. I thought that finally maybe we were on the way to fixing this. I tried to tell my husband that I couldn't just be happy, I couldn't just snap out of it. He wanted to talk to the doctor about it. I said ok. He got a phone call. And then after the call, he says, "I don't know what you told them, but I told them that you act normal at home and they said they must have been wrong about you." So here I am, even worse off than I was. Apparently, its normal to think about killing myself multiple times a day and it's normal to feel like crap and cry and not have the motivation to get out of bed and get a glass of water even though I haven't had anything to drink all day. It's normal to spend all but two waking hours in bed. It's normal to be sad all the time, and it's normal to worry about everything. Well, if this is normal then I don't want it. Screw this. I now feel worse than I have in a while, but it's the weekend, so I'll be completely without help until Monday. And there's no way I'm calling the crisis line. The way I see it, if I'm not serious about killing myself, then I don't need to call. And if I am serious about killing myself and want to do it, then why in the world would I try to get someone to stop me? Therefore, I will never call the number they gave me. My husband also said, "Last time this happened, I helped you. So you need to just be happy. Smile. There's no reason to be sad." At this point, I wanted to just break down and cry. I couldn't believe what had happened. The phone call was unbelievably counterproductive. The doctors who I thought were actually taking me seriously and were actually going to help now probably think I'm full of b.s. When I finally was completely honest and told the doctor what was going on, I didn't feel so isolated and I felt like I finally had some support. Someone knew and someone could help. But now I've lost it all. And on top of that, I have to put up with my husband telling me to be happy all the time and he thinks that's what he's supposed to be doing. The small hope I had is gone. I wish I could kill myself.