Each Way To Suicide Is Its Own:

You Become Aware Of An Illness By Understanding Yourself And Understanding The Meaning That That Illness Has In Your Own Life, Symbolically And, More Importantly, Quite Literally.

I Long Ago Abandoned The Notion Of A Life Without Storms, Or A World Without Dry And Killing Seasons. Life Is Too Complicated, Too Constantly Changing, To Be Anything But What It Is. And I Am, By Nature, Too Mercurial To Be Anything But Deeply Wary Of The Grave Unnaturalness Involved In Any Attempt To Exert Too Much Control Over Essentially Uncontrollable Forces. There Will Always Be Propelling, Disturbing Elements, And They Will Be There Until, As Lowell Put It, The Watch Is Taken From The Wrist.

Moods Are Such An Essential Part Of The Substance Of Life, Of One's Notion Of Oneself, That Even Psychotic Extremes In Mood And Behavior Somehow Can Be Seen As Temporary, Even Understandable, Reactions To What Life Has Dealt.

Never Once, During Any Of My Bouts Of Depression, Had I Been Inclined Or Able To Pick Up A Telephone And Ask A Friend For Help. It Wasn't In Me.

Anybody Who's Had To Contend With Mental Illness - Whether It's Depression, Bipolar Illness Or Severe Anxiety, Whatever - Actually Has A Fair Amount Of Resilience In The Sense That They've Had To Deal With Suffering Already, Personal Suffering.