Hell or high water?

Either way, I'm in something very deep

Last night was the first I have spent in a homeless shelter. If there is a Hell on earth, I'm in it.

Yes, it was a blessing to get a meal. This morning I even got a half-cup of real coffee. Yet I feel physically old for the first time in my life; tired, achy, and bouncing emotionally between numb, depressed, suicidal and joyous. It is mentally exhausting.

If I were to actually kill myself, it would destroy my son and daughter. They - and especially he - have inherited my inherent emotional fragility.

I need help and can't get it. I was illegally discharged from a psychiatric crisis center when they should have invoked Florida's "Baker Act" to keep me there. I can't get Medicaid without being "disabled."

Well, let me tell you: I sure as Hell feel disabled.