I tried to kill myself last summer. In and out of the mental hospital 4 times. Found a bipolar and mood disorder support group. I'm diagnosed schizoaffective. I learn to facilitate the groups, and am getting straight A's in my college classes. Met an older woman. Had a bad relationship. Brokeup. She still came to the group. Talks about being suicidal. I try to see if there is a bed available in the hospital which she can stay in until she's feeling better. She doesn't want to go the hospital. I try to cheer her up, taking her to a nice resturaunt and listening to all her problems. She becomes mean and manipulative, asking if I would shed a tear if I died. Calls me an asshole. I try to take her back to the hospital. She pretends she's not suicidal and doesn't get admitted. She starts calling me, ranting and cussing me out. I turn my phone off. Get home, two messages to hear. 1: You fucking asshole, I'm gonna think of you when I'm dying. Your face, you, I'm gonna think about YOU as I'm going under. 2: Well, I still love you, even though you're whacko. I'm passing out now. I don't know if I will be awake tommorow. I call her, call her, call her. No answer, no answer, no answer. I call the paramedics to her house. She becomes more furious by tenfold. Next morning: 8 messages, all from her. She hopes I contract the bubonic plague. She says that if I find upside-down red crosses on my lawn, they're from her. Cussing. Cussing. Cussing. Cussing. The filthiest shit I've ever heard in my life. That was last week. I try to have my fellow mood support group facilitators tell her that she is not welcome back in the group. They aren't convinced. She calls tonight. I hang up. It's gonna be a long motherfucking night.