![]() The volunteer’s advice seemed ludicrously inadequate to my situation. Through my teeth, I snarled, “I don’t want tea.” ![]() My silence prompted the volunteer to try again: “Could you put on the kettle for some herbal tea?” I was sweating in a stuffy old house in upstate New York, and I wanted a warm bath about as much as I wanted to walk over a bed of fiery coals. It was still nearly 80 degrees at 7 o’clock in September. The volunteer suggested that I take a warm bath. The despair that had been haunting me for so long would, I feared, eventually kill me. I felt so overwhelmingly alone in the world I was terrified. ![]() I told the volunteer who answered that when I looked into my future, I saw nothing good. One humid night in September, I called a mental health crisis center.
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