Back from the Dead or Week in the Ward

I crashed hard from my weeks of mania. I found myself alone and full of self-loathing. I decided that I was more of a burden on my family alive than dead. I grabbed a notebook and on the back porch I began taking my Adivan one by one as I wrote through teary eyes, a suicide letter. I explained my endless love for my family and gave each a personal good bye and thoughts on my hopes for their future. I didn't remember much of what I wrote (read since) but I do recall falling and ripping out my daughter's section as I blacked out. My family came home and found me soon after.
I awoke in the psychiatric ward of a hospital and then a week of hell that still haunts near every thought currently. I am on some different meds that seem to be helping, although I am having some problems adjusting outside with odd thoughts and feelings. I have a court ordered therapist, because I guess I was very aggressive coming out of the overdose and drugged up. The police escorted me the two hrs to the ward in cuffs, but I don't remember any of it. I had a bad experience with my last counslor, but I think this will be for the best and I plan to keep going to a therapist, so I can get my self respect/self worth issue where it needs to be. Because I will hit the dark spot again no matter what meds I am on. That's just how the bipolar mind works. It just keeps running and ducking and darting as neurons change how and when they communicate. So this next time I need to be ready mentally to fight my selfish need to leave this world.
I am right back to being very manic. My wife and I are worried about another crash. I have been out for four days and I'm not sleeping well. Last night I did but I'm not sure if I was merely exhausted or the PM pill I added was enough to allow the Sandman in.) May wife took over my meds and she doles them to me like a little kid, but at least she doesn't ask to see in my mouth like at the ward!
I hope to post my experiences in the hospital before I forget them.