Suicidal thoughts are something I've been living with for years and years, off and on. Lately while working with a therapist I've begun to draw patterns between highs and lows. I was very depressed a few weeks ago so she helped me set up an appointment with a psychiatrist. A week before I saw the pdoc, my mood swung up and stayed there. I stopped sleeping, started cleaning like crazy, writing, painting, taking long walks at 1 am. When I saw the pdoc, she said I was hypomanic. She gave me a prescription for antipsychotics, which I didn't take because they scared the hell out of me, and then I saw her again a few days later. This was a few days ago. I've spoken with her about suicidal thoughts, and she made me promise to go to the emergency room if I ever thought I would follow through on them. While in this hypomanic state, I've been self injuring a lot, but nothing serious, and I didn't feel any desire to kill myself. Last night I think I hit the peak, I was up all night surfing "casual encounter" ads online. Casual sex is not something I usually do. While in that state though, it felt like a perfectly reasonable thing to do. I made plans to meet a man tonight at his place, all the way across town. At work today, I crashed back down. Or at least, I think I'm crashing back down. I'm not euphoric anymore, that's for sure. And I chickened out of those ridiculous sex plans. Very dangerous and out of character for me. Part of me still wants to do it, I guess a remnant of whatever state I was in. I don't know. I'm not going to. It became surreal while I was sitting at work (I'm a teaching assistant at a film school, I work with children). I was joking and laughing with the kids, it looked like a good time, but in my head I was planning all of the ways I could hurt myself tonight. Taking the subway home, I was utterly convinced that everyone on the train wanted me dead. Any time I met someone's eyes I could almost hear them telling me I should just end it. And on my way home I stopped and bought enough sleeping pills. I always told myself that I would never make an attempt like that - too risky. It would most likely fail. But I'm not so sure. It feels so surreal because usually I have a pretty good, reasonable gut and I always go for help when I need it. But now I'm sitting here contemplating suicide but I'm terrified to go to the hospital. It's almost like I don't believe myself. I feel so disconnected from myself. Plus, if I went to the emergency room what if I walked in and said I was suicidal and they brushed me off, or sent me away. Or worse, held me there for a long time. I don't know what to do. I don't know how seriously to take myself. I think I should go, but part of me is talking myself out of it because I told a friend that I'd do some work for her for her business tomorrow and she needs me. I'd have to call her and say "Hey, I can't do the work I said I'd do" And I wouldn't be able to say it was because I was going to the hospital. Plus, part of what she needs for the job is at my place. and part of me is worried because if they need to contact someone, I don't have anyone else. My family is out of the picture, and I'm not dragging a friend into this. And part of me just doesn't know what to expect, or if it will help. Or if they'll even believe me. I'm not asking for attention. I'm just asking for help. But I'm afraid that they'll just treat me like a whiner.