I've been in the psychiatric ward for the past 7 days. Long story short I got drunk and flipped out. I got a hold of my husband's gun and tried to commit suicide (my husband got it away before I could find the trigger, I was that drunk), I also got my hands on a knife and started cutting up my wrists. Am I glad that I didn't succeed? I don't know. I have to live with my bipolar disorder for the rest of my life and I have to be medicated for the rest of my life. My doctor has me snapping a rubber band on my wrist whenever I get the urge to cut. I have welts on both wrists. All in all I am so depressed I can't take it. I have absolutely no support system, my husband, although he promised to be here for me is not. I just don't know why I have to live like this.