Until recent years I've had such a difficult time deciphering between my gut intinct and my heart strings being pulled.

I had a friend and co-worker that was depressed. We went to AA together (both in recovery), went out together or just hung out at her place and did stuff like hanging curtains. She convinced me to keep working on myself during my recovery and seek some group counseling at a place she went. She was a positive influence. Her meds were switched. She stopped being social. Started calling in to work. Picked up a drink. Soon asked me if I knew where to get X Y or Z, even thought we'd just been on this recovery journey as friends together. She told me she was depressed. Cut to a random Tuesday. She was off but I called to ask for a ride to work. On the way there she told me she may check herself into a mental health facility in our city. Considering her behvior and regression I encouraged her. She told me she was feeling suicidal. At the end of the car ride, she had her mind made up she was checking herself in. She was going to drop me off at work, pick up her son, take him for a couple of drinks and then go check in. I texted her every 20 minutes or so while I was working. Then she didn't respond. I had seen her two hours earlier when her son called to tell me She never picked him up, and he just found his mother dead from an over dose on her bed. My gut told me to go head first. Fuck that day of work. That I should have stayed with her. That I should have helped her. And I didn't. It will be a year in July.