I am a type 1 diabetic. I became symptomatic at about 13, and went undiagnosed until 19. I had parents who worked a lot, and I was home alone most of the time. My step-mom was an alcoholic, and most of the time when she was home, I stayed in my room. Sometimes when I wonder how I went so long undiagnosed, I just think back and remember. I had a troubled childhood. I bounced guardians a lot, I dealt first hand with being abused, and by my teens I was really introverted, and only felt comfortable with my friends.

I was misdiagnosed as type 2 and received inadequate treatment for two years before falling into a coma with ketoacidosis. At the time, my spouse had left me and thrown me out of my own home in favor of a high school student. I am told that while I was in the coma, my heart stopped several times. When I woke up, I was told that I was not going to live. The hospital's compassion program tried very hard to prepare me for the experience of death. I did not die. And it left a hole inside me for a very long time. One that sometimes I'm not sure ever went away. I just remember being so angry that God gave me such a shitty life and then didn't have the decency to take me when it was my time. I wrestled with the desire to commit suicide for a year. I was so sick of the hospital that I did not tell the doctors I was suicidal. And I grappled with carrying my insulin all the time, every day. I used to sit up at night, crying, with my needle in my hand, thinking how easy it would be. Something always brought me back from the edge.

Miraculously, four years later, I am married, and pregnant. But my husband and I share a house with someone I used to regard as a friend. Sadly, over time I have discovered he is very controlling, and becomes angry when he does not get what he wants. He has always had issues with me, always follows me around and bothers me for every little thing I do. On the one occasion someone tried to defend me, it was my Mother. He grabbed her and tried to physically throw her out of our house. My Mom is not a small woman, and she was terrified. He tore the shirt she was wearing, and she was so afraid that she forced me to move out for several months. Now she has moved away and I have nowhere to go. I don't feel safe. I had to leave.

My husband is stuck between me and his friendship. I'm tired of being a difficulty in his life. I'm tired of people having problems with me. I'm tired. I am suicidal today. I am staying at a friend's (and that can't last forever) and I'm panicking. I'm scared my stress will hurt my baby. But now I'm scared to have it with no home and no father. I'm scared I can't trust myself. I'm so scared. Everything always falls apart. I ruin everything and no matter where I go everything is a mess. I can't live this way anymore. And I can't bring a baby into my world like this. And I'm falling apart because I really thought my life was together now. It's not. And I'm not. I don't know what to do.