It's been a long time since I've been on this forum and that's mostly because I was doing pretty well. Fluoxetine has been doing wonders with my brain and I've been on a great track to transferring to a state college with a scholarship. Then came last week; I could feel my brain changing. I just woke up and felt at the bottom of the hill again. I skipped two of my classes since I knew that wouldn't affect my grade. I had midterms the next week and started getting as much done as I could before I could slip down the slope too much. My mom's fiance came for the weekend (whom, I love. He's a great father figure and I am slightly disappointed that she met him when I'm just about to leave home), but he had to leave early on Sunday (4 days earlier than expected) for some circumstances. A few minutes after he left one of the people who completely abandoned me last year texted me asking if I would get coffee with her. Shortly after that I was driving and spotted a man who looked so much like my father that I have been avoiding for more than a year now that I went into full panic mode and drove to the police station as a precaution. I couldn't do anything after that. For the past 3 days I'm barely passing by. I'm not eating, not sleeping, missing some more classes because I feel exhausted, filled with conflicting rage, bitterness, and incredible sadness, and I'm even having to convince teachers to give me an extension without any medical reason because I just can't do it. Why does this never end. This is like a cycle of being on a high, trigger, down slope, meds... I'm trying to eliminate all triggers so this won't happen again. I spoke to my mom and asked her to try advising me before hand that her fiance might leave unexpectedly, I texted the girl and told her she needed to stop texting me just so I can respond without her ever responding back, and well I'll just have to live with the prospect of running into my dad, but I'm taking more precautions. I just hate that the only comforting thought at this time suicidal ideation. I keep thinking that there is always a way out. I would never do it, but as long as that option does exist then I don't feel so claustraphobic. (Again, I wouldn't commit suicide, but it's just a coping mechanism)