I think about suicide every day.  Sometimes several times.  It is a comfort when I'm really down or in a lot of pain to think.  Hey, I can alwasy commit suicide.  I have been in the place where I actually had a plan and was ready to do it.  This is not like that.  It is a coping mechanism.  To know I have an out if I really need it.I know I should find a therapist here now that I've moved.  But I have trouble setting out on the quest.  It is so hard to find a good one and I'm so picky.  I know more than most therapists - I've studied as a therapist - I act as a therapist in my work and volunteer work.  Anyway...I just thought I should admit to myself that I am nurturing fantasies of suicide daily.  Sometimes when I think I might run out of money ...I just decide - hey, I'll off myself and voila' no more money problems.  I'm 46 - I have enough money to live to 56 - lots of people don't even live that long.  Mom is 70 and happy happy happy.  Good for her - and I mean that.  I love that she is so happy.  My dad is happy too. He finally got meds for the bipolar stuff and the man is in bliss.  Married to a woman he adores and who adores him.  I on the other hand, am single, physically miserable, depressed or anxious most of the tme...what's to love about that?