Will it ever stop?

I cried myself to sleep last night. Memories follow me around like a cloud.
I had a bad melt down at the chiropractor office the other day. Then I blurted that I'm constantly thinking suicide.
They suggested a psychologist. I will need a referral from my medical doctor.
I just want the pain to end. I want the memories to stop.
This morning the dishwasher was full. I turned it on to wash. Came back one hour later, the dishes were hot, not washed. So the food was baked on.
I could hear my mothers voice in my mind telling me to get my lazy ass busy and wash them by hand. It won't hurt my lily white hands. I started yelling back. I feel like I am cursed. I feel like their ghosts are actually haunting me. I know it's not possible. It's my FEELING. I could feel them laughing at me because I had to do the dishes by hand.

I remember as a little girl, we were walking uptown where we lived. We stopped in half way to visit my mom's drinking buddy/friend. I don't remember if the lady was hung over or drunk. But I do remember that there was a big pile of dirty dishes in the sink. My mom told me to wash them before we left.
I washed and dried them. I don't remember if the lady had running water. I know that we didn't. I would have to heat water on the stove. I was never allowed to "air dry" the dishes either. Because one - It looked messy, and two - flies might land on them.
I was only eight or nine years old. I hated washing dishes. My brothers were never allowed to help me because she would say "I was trying to put an apron on them" hat she meant is that I was making them gay if they did dishes. I was the only girl so I had to do all of the housework.
However, my older brother would lie to her and tell her that HE cleaned the house up and that I refused to help. Meanwhile, he made the mess, then he would make me clean it up before she got home. She would get mad at me, because she believed him that I was lazy.
I couldn't win.
This morning, when all that was happening, there was a small sharp knife on the counter. I grabbed it and for that instant I felt like stabbing myself. It happened so fast, but just before I did, I threw it into the sink instead.
Afterwards, it was like it was mocking me. I eventually hid it in a drawer. One that I seldom look in.
I think about suicide often. But yet, this morning, I told God that I don't want to die.
I'm afraid of that black hole, and that instant when I can't control myself. I am asking Him to keep me safe.
When I am determined to do something. I do it. I won't just stab my arm and try to get attention. I know that I won't.
I want my normal back. I really do.
I used to have a wonderful life. I don't want to be on medication and in a fog. I want to be happy and content and confident once again.
Lord, help me please.

Hooty