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About a month and a half ago - maybe two months ago - the pipe that goes from the toilet to the wall in my bathroom started leaking.

I ignored it.

I thought about fixing it.

I thought about fixing it every day, several times a day.

The floor got wet and I put towels down.

I couldn't call the apartment manager because the mess in my apartment had gotten so bad.

I thought about that a lot too.

I thought about it and I worried about it but I never, ever did anything to clean it up.

The leak got worse and spread to other rooms.

More towels.

Soaked carpet.

The Friday before last I came home and there was a letter attached to my door and my lock was changed.

The leak had spread to another apartment and since they didn't have a key, they called someone and got in my apartment - saw the horrible mess.

I took the letter, got in my car and drove around the corner and parked and read it over and over.

I sat there about an hour, then I called the number on the letter to get a copy of the key and I came home.

The letter said I had 48 hours to clean up my apartment but I spent the weekend worrying and sleeping and didn't do anything.

I kept thinking it was just a horrible dream and I would wake up.

I kept HOPING it was a horrible dream and I'd wake up.

Monday morning I called in to work and went to the store to get cat food and when I came back, there was a note on the door saying I had 24 hours to get out.

I sat there, stunned, for a long time.

Then, in a wave that I could almost physically feel, everything came crashing down and I saw what I have become.

I started crying and it went on for a long time.

I laid there curled up for quite a while and I decided I couldn't take it anymore.

I didn't want to live anymore.

It was worse than when I went through a bad time a few months ago - back then I didn't want to live but I didn't want to die.

Monday I wanted to die.

I thought about taking pills or driving my car off of something.

I thought about finding an enclosed space and parking there with my car running.

After a few hours I got up and took a shower and sat for a long time just staring ahead at nothing.

I sent Suzanne a text message and started telling her things.

She tried to call me but I texted her back that I just couldn't. She had just got to work and said I could email her so I did.

She told me I had to call a doctor and make an appointment and I did.

She said she would go with me.

Tuesday I sat around in a haze. I called the apartment manager and asked if there was anything I could do to stay. She said that the damage was too extensive and no. I asked if I could have until Friday and she said "ok".

Wednesday morning Suzanne picked me up and we went to my appointment.

When the doctor came in, he asked why I was there and I just couldn't even start. I asked if Suzanne could tell him and he said he'd rather hear it from me. I started but I really couldn't speak.

She started telling him about the trash in my apartment that I had told her about and the leak and my thoughts of dying and sleeping all the time.

He was nice about it. He said he wanted me to start taking Zoloft and to see a counselor.

Suzanne had printed out some papers that my work had sent me for FMLA and a leave of absence but he said he wanted me to go back to work the next day and he wouldn't sign them.

I called and made an appointment with a shrink that I am supposed to go to tomorrow.

The rest of last week and all weekend I didn't do anything.

I didn't look for a place to live or clean up anything.

My moods run from numb to thinking again that I can't possibly deal with this anymore.

I don't know what's going to happen to me.