I cracked and I broke yesterday afternoon and my life went spinning across the floor. Now I am trying to muster the energy to pick up the pieces.

Jani's homecoming has not been easy. Yes, she is a little bit better than she was when she went in but she still experiences her delusions and still has several moments a day of psychosis, punctuated by even more painful moments of lucidity where she cries in frustration that she can't control her actions (like she did today when she got dropped a "level" at school for hitting students and staff). I was prepared for her to challenge our authority after fourth months of hospital staff challenging her. I was not prepared for her to still be psychotic. We never know what Jani is hearing or who is talking to her. I wonder sometimes if she is learning not to tell us that Wednesday is talking to her so we won't get mad. What is so sad is that Jani doesn't want to give up her "imaginary friends" or she is too psychotic to do it. I brought up to her yesterday the idea of transferring her delusions into the bodies of stuffed animals or dolls, but she refuses to embody them.

She doesn't want to give them up or even lock them within a physical form because then she couldn't take them with her (she is already two steps ahead because that is exactly what I was going to do). She said, looking down the the floor, her voice melancholy, that the only time she is ever truly happy is when her "friends" are with her. That broke my heart, even though logically I know it is not quite true. The hard part is getting her to believe she can be happy without them. Right now, she feels so lonely and isolated (although this is of her own making thanks to her schizophrenia) and she can't stand to be alone. So she would rather have the company of these delusions even if they tell her to do bad things. I now understand why when Jani was five and would meet with her friends, why even though Jani had a great time as soon as the friend had to go Jani would say "I hate you!" She felt betrayed because she was being left alone again with the voices in her head.

Jani cannot be alone because when she is alone "they" come for her. She needs our voices to block out the ones in her head. She needs people to stay with her all the time.

I understand that. That is how I feel right now.

Yesterday I was coming off a shift with Jani. Susan had taken Jani to see our friend Michi, who offered to take Jani for a while. Today we found out that as soon as Susan left Jani bit Michi and drew blood (this is a woman she loves). The more Jani loves you, the more likely she is to hurt you. Schizophrenics do tend to hurt those closest to them. I took a few hours to set up an external blog and write some bullshit post. I say it was bullshit because even though I wrote all about the accusation of child sexual abuse against me last year, I wrote it with distance, as if it had happened to someone else. I wasn't feeling a damn thing. I was just writing down words. That is part of my problem is that I can use my writing to prevent me from feeling.

Susan came back with Bodhi. She was complaining of being tired and having a headache and seemed to be overwhelmed (understandably). It was her day to be staff. I had to get Honey out so took her and Bodhi (already another danger sign because I have to carry Bodhi in one arm and Honey pulls with excitement to get out). Rather than walk Honey a little bit to do her business, I felt compelled to take her for a walk, but couldn't do this with Bodhi. So I decided to take them up to a local high school so Honey could run on the field. Susan and Jani came out and I suggested we all go. I figured there was more support in numbers.

The original choice was to go to Jani's old elementary school, but some guy was playing basketball happily with his son which meant we couldn't let Honey off the leash (and Honey is clawing the dashboard to get out). So we proceeded up the street to the high school. I let Honey go and got Bodhi out. Bodhi toddled away across the parking lot and squatted to inspect a drain (which Jani recognized he could fall into-we have been rather shitty parents in terms of Bodhi's safety). We moved on the field, me bringing some toys for both kids. I brought Bodhi's ride-on train and offered to push Jani on it. I have been doing things like that a lot lately: trying to make Jani happy by doing things we did when she was a baby. But none of them have worked. I am so desperate to give her a happy experience drawn from the time before she was schizophrenic but it never works. Jani, to her credit, tries, but everything has changed. She hops on the train, or lets me push her on the swings, but as soon as she is on the smile fades and the distant melancholy comes back into her eyes. It is like nothing can give her pleasure for more than a few seconds, and certainly not the things she loved as a toddler. I have failed in my attempt to bring back the past. I have to accept that Jani is different. Even harder, I have to accept her unhappiness, which I don't want to do for fear that she will eventually try to kill herself once she figures out how.

Of course, the sun was out and there was little shade and Jani burns in seconds thanks to the Thorazine. She started screaming in pain because of her sunburn and Susan said "This is why I didn't want to come here! I just wanted to take her!" And I felt crushed. I was trying to be a complete family and trying desperately to rekindle some of the fun we used to have.

I think that was when the first inkling of killing myself popped into my head. I was trying and failing and I was holding myself responsible. I was also filled with rage at the WRAP people and in so much pain I have to confess I wanted to share that pain. In my most petty moments, I try to drag everyone else around me into my own private hell, which is what I was doing with my Facebook comments before I took the pills.

Susan tried to load Bodhi into the car but Jani was screaming and this was freaking Bodhi out. So Susan and Bodhi had to stay behind with Tony and his son while I took Jani and Honey back. At the beginning of the quarter mile trip, I was trying to comfort Jani with a wet napkin and sooth her sunburn, but by the end of it I was screaming back at her "What do you expect me to do?!" because nothing I did could comfort her. I was starting to completely unhinge.

At this point I should have stepped away from the car and taken a smoke break but Jani was screaming in pain and so I pushed on. I went around the other side of the car and yanked Honey out of the passenger side so hard that she hit the pavement on her side before finding her feet. I knew I was losing it but I didn't know what else to do. Jani followed me to the stairwell and collapsed, crying that she would wait for me there. I screamed down at her, screamed, to get up here. I was raging now. Jani complied, sensing that I was off my rocker. I reached the door of Bodhi's apartment and struggled to find my key. Impatient and wanting to hurt someone, I kicked the door. Then discovered it was open. I went inside and flung Susan's purse across the room. By this point I knew what I was going to do. I knew that I had forgotten to take my Lexapro that morning because it is in Bodhi's apartment and not Jani's (and I had been Jani's staff the previous night). I was well aware that I was getting violent but it was an impotent rage because I felt betrayed by all the useless social workers who have promised to help us and not done a damn thing. I had not been violent much since I had been on the Lexapro but now I was on 40mg a day and still wanted to kill someone. A year ago, during the hell of Jani's first hospitalizations, the Lexapro kept me even steven and allowed me to function. Now the dose was higher yet I still wasn't stable. I was raging and hurt. So I knew then that I was going to swallow the whole bottle. I also knew it probably wouldn't kill me but at that point I just wanted the world to go away for however long it would.

Still, I got Jani cold, wet washcloths for her face and hands before I did it. I had her lay down and lay cool cloths on her face and hands. I made sure she was okay and then went to the kitchen, popped the top off the Lexapro and poured pills into my mouth until it was full. I gulped a little bit of water in a dirty glass and set down the pill bottle. It still wasn't completely empty. There were about ten or so left. Reason was already starting to kick in so I didn't swallow anymore. I considered leaving the cap off but then worried about Bodhi or Jani getting into it so I screwed it back on.

I have to confess that I felt a sense of triumph...briefly. I had thought about killing myself for years but had never done it. Now, finally, I had attempted it. Childishly, I statused what I had done on Facebook. Why? Because in that moment I was selfish and cruel and I wanted to tear into your lives with my pain. I wanted to scare you. I wanted to hurt you, even though none of you have done anything to me. I think it was just that you don't have to deal with what I have to do deal with (although many of you deal with other severe difficulties). I was child lashing out for attention, a teenager saying "You'll all be sorry when I'm dead!" There was no noble reason. I did it for attention. Because deep down I needed, needed to know I was still loved. Maybe I was also trying to cover up my feelings of guilt about being abusive to Honey. I wanted to be forgiven. I wanted to be absolved. And I thought that was the only way to do it.

After swallowing the pills, though, the feeling of vindication passed and I dropped to the kitchen floor, tearing my shirt on a cabinet, and sobbed for twenty minutes. All the pain and agony and sense of failure just poured out of me. At one point, I cursed Susan in my head for getting pregnant in the first place and dooming me to raise a schizophrenic child. I was very selfish. Jani came and stood over me, disturbed by this display of weakness in her father. She patted my head, telling me it would be okay, and even hugged me. But when I wouldn't stop crying, she just stepped back and watched me.

Finally, I stopped crying, not because I had achieved any sort of relief but simply because I had to get Jani back to Susan before the pills kicked in. I got Jani back in the car, buckled her up, got in, didn't buckle up, and started driving back to the high school. We passed Tony on the way up, so I turned around to go back. The pills were already starting to kick in. I was getting sleepy. When I caught up with Susan she took one look at me and said "What did you do?" Because I guess I looked like how I used to look after I had flown into a rage and hit Honey or Jani. She asked had I hurt Honey. I was losing the ability to speak, or maybe I just didn't want to spend the last moments of my life trying to defend myself from Susan. So Susan asked Jani did I hurt Honey or her. Jani told her I hurt Honey. Susan looked at me with contempt and asked how badly. Jani said not badly. Honey is okay, she said. Susan took Jani out of the car, looking at me like I was a monster.

I think the only thing I said to Susan was "I swallowed all my Lexapro." I think it took me a few tries to make her understand that I had taken the entire bottle. This seemed to bother her less than the fact that I had been rough with Honey. I don't blame her. I think she was overwhelmed. It was like I was committing infidelity.

I took the other car, leaving the VUE because it had Bodhi's carseat, and took off, no belt again, intending to drive and then hike into the hills and let the pills do their thing. But I only got a mile down the road when my sense of responsibility kicked in. I stopped the car in the middle of an empty road. "I can't do it," I told myself. "I can't leave Susan alone with the kids. As much as Susan might hate me for being abusive, I would have to face the music because I could not skip out on her. So I turned around and went back.

I spent the rest of the night trying to walk it off. I stuttered, slurred my words, had muscle spasms, and sweat profusely. I never threw up so the meds passed into my bloodstream (although I felt nauseous several times). I did not go to the emergency room because had I done so they would have held me for 72 hours and Susan would have been alone with a schizophrenic child and a baby with no help for three days.

So I had to try and walk off an overdose.

When I went to bed last night I wasn't sure I was going to wake up. My heart rate slowed way down.

Somewhat to my surprise, I woke up. I am glad I did because I stayed with Jani last night and I would not have wanted her to wake up next to a dead body.

So what I have a learned? I have learned what most people who attempt suicide and actually succeed never get to find out:

It doesn't change a damn thing.

It was a cry for help and nothing came out of it except I scared a lot of good people. I did not wake up this morning with a new zest for life. The colors aren't brighter and the smells aren't more powerful. My cry for help has done nothing and I am still the same person with the same feelings I had before I did it. Nothing has changed.

So my argument against suicide is now this: it doesn't change a damn thing. You are still you. I am still me. Had I succeeded yesterday the only thing that would be different would be that I was dead. My death would not change the system that drove me there or help my family. Nobody rode in on a white horse to save us. Nothing changed.

I am not sure how any of you feel about me after reading this. Am I an egotistical jerk? Yes. Am I dealing with an incredible situation that I cannot control or fix? Yes. Will I ever try to kill myself again? No. There is no point. It doesn't change anything.

It was my hope to one day change the system that has been so tortuous to us. In the coming days and weeks, I hope to find that fire again and reconnect with my purpose for being on this earth, which is spread Jani's word.

I just need time to heal.

Note: Two days after I made my attempt, I was introduced through Facebook to a woman, Nicole Pinion, whose husband actually finished the job I started. And through her and her blog, “One Note Short,” I got to see what would have happened to my wife and children had I succeeded. I am still processing what I did, as I am sure I will for a long time to come. The experience has left me feeling very emotional fragile. More importantly, I have learned that I can’t beat Jani’s illness alone. I thought I could. And it almost killed me.