Lyrica, interesting since I was at once taking 1800 mg per day of that one. Pain was unbearable. Anyway, since SCS surgery, I have withdrawn from all pain meds. But that is not the end of the story.

Tom....... I stood where you have at a crossroads, a precipice, in the last couple of months. All seemed to be going so well. The pain remediation from spinal cord stim unit was working well. The meds withdrawal although long and drawn out and uncomfortable was finally over. All seemed to be looking up. I began to reach out and look for work once again, having been buoyed by former work associates who said "we can't wait to have you back" only to learn of the hollowness of their words. [I know, blame the economy] I tried and continue to try. I was betrayed in a possible business venture, and that went south too. Depression slammed into my life like an anvil ready to press the very breath from my lungs. I sank low, so low..... lower than even in my teen years of which I have spoken before.

I checked my whole life policies, learned all was in order. I backed up all computer passwords so family would have access to all of my information. Wrote out instructions regarding the payment of obligations. I began to harbor the deepest darkest thoughts in my soul. Hopelessness, helplessness did not creep into my being, it stormed in. I developed a plan.

Anxiety joined depression and I became a basket case of basket cases, crying out to God, WHY, WHY deliver me from this horrific pain only to find NOTHING to support my family. I knew with insurance I could deliver over a million, although the emotional scarring would be a forever thing, but the voice of the deceiver beckoned me, soothingly appealing to my hopelessness.

I picked a time when my wife was occupied with the packing which goes with the sale of our home, oh yes, we must sell our home so as to continue to fund my search for work. Equity is our last hurrah.

Slipping from the house I drove to a lonely mountain road and remained there for hours. The weapon was ready. The recriminations were hounding me. I wanted freedom from the emotional pain. I, who have prayed for so many, found myself feeling alone and separate from God, who sat there in the car with me. I broke into a cold sweat, weapon in hand. Could I be sure? Would this work? Or would I just certify for my family my attempt at escapism while leaving an empty living husk needing medical care we could scarce afford. I thought. I prayed. Taking key in hand, I started the car. Sat for what seemed forever....... It was darkening. My wife would begin to worry where I had gone.

Shifting into gear, I turned around, headed down the hill, rejoined civilization. All of those other commuters, most who were headed home from jobs. Jobs like I would appreciate.

I merged into the lanes safely. Soon pulling up in front of the house that soon will not be ours to call home. The lights were on. All were home. Now I rejoined them.

The next morning, I was talking with my lawyer on the work comp case which is last on the agenda of the injuries which sent me to the operating room 28 times. He was so alarmed at my voice, at my responses, that he demanded to speak to my wife. They spoke and the result was I see my doctor right then or go to the ER. I chose my doc. Paxil and Xanax prescribed. Then doubled. My mind is freed of the demon voices which would have me end this existence. I am focused on the struggles presented by our forthcoming move. I am applying for still another means for work. I smiled, and my family reveled in it. Friends have gathered around to confirm my worth. I live.

God wanted my continuance. He was alone with me on that mountain road. It was He who must have stayed my hand. The note I had scrawled has become shredder fodder. I have confessed all to my pastor, my wife, my closest of friends, now you. Together we will get through whatever life deals. Taking steps toward the brink are long hard shaky scary things to do. The mind wrestles with the irrationality of it. Hands steady, strong, and firm in other circumstances become trembling. The spirit does not want to go. Illness or the deceiver beckon to the easy out. The simple quick plunge. Regardless of the damage done to those left behind. For now, I am free of this deceptive wretched temptation. I appeal to God for each day a new perspective on life, and I visit my therapist, telling him of my continuing quest for work, being assured my steps are right and that it will come.

Blessings on you all,
One who departed the brink,
Mark56

Thank God your lawyer recognized that it wasn't you... Mark, thank God again that you left the brink.

Have you read Pters words that are stickied at the top of the forum. We all learned so much from his battle with the demon...that the lure of death is a lie. I believe that God was with you on that mountain road..and I believe He understood my raging at him when Michael killed himself.

I've learned over all these years since his death that people cannot help you if they don't know how you feel. I'm so glad you owned up to those feelings with the people that love and can help you.

It's hard to have hope sometimes, and sometimes I feel "stuck" with faith...if that makes any sense. The economy is so awful and to have to give up your home brings me to tears.

You know that you aren't alone..Tom is living proof of that. You both are in my thoughts and prayers.

Love, Alffe

Urged by you I read the words of Pter, helpful and wise. Thank you for your guidance and your love,
Love,
Mark56

z to you my friend.... Three times I have been where you were and listened to the deciever, three times I have failed to "succeed" at the deed. Each time I think I will never try again, then something, someone trips me up and I decend again into the depths of dispair. I have been in the hospital lock up an have vowed to myself to never, ever be in that situation again..... I have also made promises to someone who cares that I will call him anytime I feel that I will not be safe in my own hands, the promise is a double edged sword as in if I keep that promise to another, then I break the promise to myself..... such a quandry
Anyhow I am glad you are still with us to help the rest of us get through the days and nights...............

We need one another, and I am here for you my dear friend, here for you. The dark night experienced that day is behind me hopefully now and forever.
I am so glad you are here with us to help as well.... getting through those days and nights, yes indeed.

Thank you dear friend,
Mark56

I've tried twice (the doctors say I did but I don't remember), I've been in a psych ward many times because of it. I wish I had someone to call, thank God you do. I don't wish anyone suffers, I hope you all feel better!

I keep my NT open all of the time and check it regularly day and night. I will be here for you..... OK?

And Pooh, you know we have that arrangement, right? It is just that I was not taking advantage of it myself, I had sunk SO LOW. Sorry, very sorry I did not write to you.

Blessings on you all,
and a wondrouse Christmas season day,
Mark56

Thank you Mark

Mark, I know you are there, and I do understand when you are in that dark pit that it is hard to talk with anyone.
That promise I made was not my choice really but I had the choice of making the promise or going back to the "hospital", which was not an option. So....

Hello, everyone: Just a quick note. I saw the top specialist on rare diseases. He fired a battery of questions at me that no other doctor ever asked and things that I had never thought about. He ordered 12 blood tests, plus a biopsy (he seemed worried about the itching and the sores it left) and a body scan. No new medications. Very, very firm but fair.

On another side

I found a song, "Going Home," which many of you will find meaningful. There are numerous versions of it on ebay http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I9Chi...eature=related

At first glance, the song seems to be welcoming death. Friends back there waiting, etc. So, why mention it on a site like this?

The more I listened to it, the more I realized that it took the drama out of killing yourself. Self-murder makes no logical sense: after all, if life is meaningless, then how can death be meaningful? So, killing oneself must be meaningful on another level than logical. That other level is drama. If that is true, than removing drama from the act makes the act truly, finally meaningless and not worth doing. "Going Home," with its calm tones, may perform exactlly that removal. At least for some people.

Tom