My Mental Health has gone down hill

So over the last few weeks, my mental health has taken a steep decline. Up until July 11, 2023 I had almost 9 months of good mental health days. I was happy, and feeling optimistic and just good. But it all started with my car breaking down and the subsequent falling of dominions thus after. 

After my car broke down, I started having to figure out how to get from point A to point B, and how to get it fixed. Then while all of that was happening, I had to figure out how to secure the funds to get it fixed. Being on SSDI makes anything outside of my already tapped out meager income damn near impossible to deal with. Then comes the darkness of the mental health.
For the last few weeks, my depression came back with a furious vengeance. I started having thoughts of suicide, and feeling like I was less than, and having panic and anxiety attacks. My bipolar mood swings would take me from extremes highs to lows within a moment. I have been physically, emotionally, and spiritually drained. Then I had the added issues of household problems. Things that I have yet to get fixed. But I have started tackling the biggest of the issues which is the clutter around my house. 

On top of all of this, the hardest thing to deal with has been the suicidal ideation. The constant barrage of intrusive thoughts and the "voices" telling you that you would be better off dead, and that you are a waste of space, that you are a burden to everyone around you, and that no one really cares about your problems because they are stupid and unremarkable. 

With the ideation, I play out these horrible, detailed events of my actions. What I would do, how I would do it, where I would do it, and what I would say in my letters. Years ago I wrote suicide letters to all the people in my life at the time that I felt I needed to say good bye to, and just leaving them with a last word. A few years ago, I came across them again, and I read each one. I cried doing so. But then I found the strength to burn them. As I lit each one on fire, and watched it turn to ash, I felt that I was leaving behind that part of my old self. I almost rewrote them. This time with the perspective of someone who has pushed harder, worked harder, loved and lived harder than that person who wrote those letters years ago. 
I felt like that younger person, while they only understood from their point of view, hadn't lived enough to really understand the person who had lived almost 10 years longer. Not discounting the experiences that I had then. But the things that had happened between then and now were somewhat different. That person still had a father, and hadn't made three trips back to California since his passing. That person, hadn't made friends on an international level. That person had never been on a cruise, or seen the sights of the far north. That person hadn't pulled through a very abusive relationship. So at this time, one can only wonder at what another 3 years would be like? 

Im not saying I will never lose the fight. That someday my life will end by my own means. But there is a grain of hope, that pushes me forward. A macabre defiance to see just how bad things will get, and what the final tipping point was. I don't hold on for others. There's really nothing "keeping" me here, outside of lacking the actions of my convictions. I stay because there is a part of me that "needs" to. But to what end? That I am unsure of. For now I am steadfast in my decisions to keep moving forward. To allow the morbid curiosity to drive me to see how far down the rabbit hole I will go. To hopefully see the progression of time until it is done by nature, not by self.