I know when things are getting worse because the kinds of suicide I imagine become more various and to some extent more violent. My fantasies leave behind the pills in my medicine chest and even the gun in my safe and extend to figuring out whether the blades of a Gillette sensor razor could be used to slit my wrists, or whether I would be better off using an X-Acto knife. I have gone so far as to try a beam just to see if it would be strong enough to support a noose. I have worked on figuring out timing: when I would be alone in the house, at what hour I could carry things through.
It gives a sense of control to your situation.
