As I have read before, I have experienced many failed relationships because of my PTSD. The most recent breakup happened in December, but because we were in a lease and both of meager means, had to live together (although in separate bedrooms) until April. Of course, my attachment issues and memories of loss didn't help, so we would end up in arguments nearly nightly. I made superficial cuts on my arm at one point, and was admitted into an unlocked facility for a few days; there they put me on Paxil and Depakote, which I've also written about. I've tried and tried to just accept the loss and go on with life, but with this failed relationship staring me in the face every night, it was too much. Things were going OK (if nearly daily bickering is OK), until Wednesday night. My ex and I got into yet another argument, and after she cut me off and wouldn't talk to me anymore, I told her "I'm just gonna go slit my wrists." "OK, do whatever you want," she replied. At this point I felt like I was on autopilot; I was fully conscious of what was going on, but felt like I wasn't in control. I went into the bathroom, grabbed a straight razor, and started lightly dragging it across my wrist, taking on layer of skin at a time. She did the responsible thing and called 911. I wanted nothing to do with the police, left and spent the night at a friend's house. There, I called and left a message with the doctor that is covering for my therapist (who's gone for the week - figures). The next morning, I went to the Boston Medical Center ER. While I was getting ready, the covering doctor called back; he agreed that I was doing the right thing. At the ER, I spoke with a psychologist who seconded my therapist's recommendation for me to start an outpatient therapy program. Acknowledging that I need more help, I agreed to start the program at the Bournewood Hospital in Chestnut Hill on Monday. We also discussed the possibility of EMDR, and she told me about something called DBT - has anyone heard of that? I have emailed my work and let them know that due to an illness I will not be at work for an extended period. After I got out of the hospital, I called my ex to give her the news. She informed me that I wasn't allowed back to the house, that she is terrified around me. I didn't take this very well, considering I have nowhere else to stay. When she agreed to meet me at the house so that I could get my things, there were two police officers waiting. They escorted me in, watched me as I threw my clothes into garbage bags, and left. As instructed, I did not say a word to her. I did my best to keep it together, but started crying as I was finally leaving. I drove from the house to Castle Island, where I sat in my car, broke down and cried for about a half-hour. I am currently staying at my friend's apartment. I am trying to get my taxes done and find an apartment for the 1st. All while preparing for this more intensive therapy.