“I am a danger to myself.”
Let that set in.
Feel the weight of that sentence on your chest.
You can’t breathe.
The air’s been knocked out of your lungs.
“I am a danger to myself.”
Imagine hearing those words in your head.
Resonating.
Rationalizing.
“How am I a danger to myself? How am I going to self-harm? There’s pills. Got a lot of sleeping pills. Shit. Means I have a plan. I’m a danger to myself and I have a plan.“
“I am a danger to others.”
How does that feel?
Are you angry?
What triggered it?
The guy in the bus seat in front of me.
He’s being.
What?
What is he being?
Annoying. His music is too loud.
I’d been so angry for weeks. It brought its own weight, which I tried to alleviate with herbs.
I told my doctor, an hour before I considered seriously harming another human being, that I felt like I should be locked up. He neither encouraged nor discouraged. Instead, he wrote a note on the back of his card:
Psychiatry Crisis. You may call me on my cell (as over) re: Mr. Koster any time.
Dr. Eddy Pakes
Quiz time. Which of those statements was me in 2013?
Crisis is crisis after all.
Answer: The second one. The first one I suffered through 30 minutes ago.
And scene.
Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.
The Bloody Doors Off 
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