Deb Karch, PhD

Guest blogger: Deb Karch, PhD

I wrote my first suicide note when I was 13 years old. I hid it and the many more that followed in my stamp collection, books or other secret hideaways, all places I knew my mom would never look.  For the next 15 years, each time I packed up my belongings for another move, I would find another one I had forgotten about. I would read each one with dismay.  I learned the hard way that an overdose only resulted in having to drink a thick black charcoal concoction with one ankle strapped to a bed frame to keep me from taking off.  Running the car in the garage took far too long and two rounds of Russian roulette proved me to be a very lucky woman.