I called a hotline last night

As my last resort and plea for help I called a hotline. I normally cannot talk on the phone: I hate it and it makes me anxious. I feel like an idiot because I called the line and told them I was okay when I clearly wasn’t. And they dismissed it and told me to go relax. Pfft. After I hung up the phone, I turned on the lights and just stood there in the middle of the room for about 20 minutes at two in the morning crying hysterically. All I could think about in that moment was hanging myself. I kept sketching out and it felt like I was on drugs or something. I kept glancing at the ceiling and the belt rack and the window and thinking about where my father keeps his medicine. I kept thinking about death. Then I tried to go to sleep because I had to wake up in two or three hours. In that time-span I had a 3-series nightmare.
Sigh. I don’t really know why I called that line; I’m sure they never really help in the scheme of things.