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My story of depression follows a long string of events that I won't bore you with. But the bottom line, I am depressed, this much I know.


Let me give you a little introduction. I'm 21 years old, I live in New York City, and I am a college student with his two year degree in Writing & Literature, whilst studying a bunch of Psychology classes in hopes to obtain a degree in that as well (maybe a Psy.D). Currently I do not have a job as it's incredibly hard to find one now in NYC (surprising, I know but there is nothing available). I am awaiting the results of my test for a state job that I am sure would help me get my life started as right now I am living with my mother in a house inherited after my grandmother's passing(just last April and I'm still upset about it). I have a little over $5000 saved in my bank account, so I haven't been doing nothing this whole time.


I'm not sure how to get into this without going off on a long, uninteresting rant about how my life sucks but I'll try to avoid that. All my life, I've been treated like crap.


At first it was just by my second oldest brother who I now have a deep hatred for. This hatred has affected me in such a way, that I have reoccurring dreams about hurting him. At first these dreams scared me, but they give me a feeling of almost bliss everytime I have them. Fortunately for him, I haven't done anything just yet. He would always make me feel insignificant, spoiled, stupid and most of all, a waste of space and a burden. During my High School years, these things made me feel down and instead of proving him wrong, my low self esteem only served to further his critiques by not caring about my classes and doing nothing. I accepted whatever he said about me and assimilated these thoughts into my own life. It was a huge mistake that I carry with me today.


My father was a huge influence on me in terms of intelligence. He was so gentle, and so open minded to the world. Unfortunately, he struggles with Bipolar Disorder and a difficulty that people with Bipolar have is the temptation to go off their medication to reach a state of mania, for the euphoric feeling it provides. I didn't know this at age 16 and said some pretty mean things to him as he was having a bout with his manic depression (I was saddened by his disregard to see what he was doing to me by leaving me for his illness) and I haven't talked to him since.


My mother is a huge influential factor on my depression. I can go on and on about what she's done to me my whole life psychologically. She has OCPD (Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder) and while she was never clinically diagnosed, it is incredibly obvious. I've read a ton of case studies where children of perfectionist parents wrote about their experiences and they all developed their own disorders because of their parents and I'm no different. Her OCPD makes me feel like I'm a complete idiot. She has to stand around as I do everything and everything to her is wrong as long as she does it herself or instructs me on how to do it "her way." Common sense things like shoveling snow, cut hedges, vacuum, and other simple knowledge tasks. Now with my brother's brainwashing me to believe that I am not intelligent with my mom's need to watch me do everything so I don't "screw up" only reinforces the idea that I'm a worthless space taker. It's hard to just believe people when they tell me that they think I'm a very smart person as I am hardwired to believe what I've been taught, and that is that I am an idiot. Now as I said, I can go on and on but unfortunately my family is small and the majority are just like my mom; demeaning and cruel. Even more unfortunately, I have to rely on her to live and she really wants me out. Out to where? I have nowhere to go.


There are so many more things I can say, but I've already wasted enough of your time. I want nothing more than to die. I want to just go to sleep, and wake up with a pair of angel wings and a halo over my head. But I'm too much like Hamlet, constantly thinking of things instead of acting when there are tons of choices. My knowledge in Psychology tells me that suicide is a disease that alters one's mind to perceive things to actually be worse than they are. But with no family that cares in my life, I'm stuck in a continuous loop of sorrow and regret, let alone helplessness. I want to die.


Thank you for reading. It means a lot.

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If you had a place to live and a job, would you still want to die?


Your life you can never get back, take some time out and keep looking. This can't be the end for you.


If I had my own place and life, I'd begin the healing process. Maybe not right away, but it would be freedom. But that chance is way far from my grasp, and as much as I'd like to show the world just what I'm capable of, my life has not given me the chance and has tied me down to a world without any care.


I'm sorry you feel that way, but if you end it now you'll never get that state job and never have the chance to live the life you want. I hope you'll feel better soon.


Thing is, if I were dead...I wouldn't need that job and it would be easier on everyone, including myself. I'd finally be able to express how I feel without any repercussions in a letter to my mom and let her know just what she's done to get me to this point. Otherwise, she wouldn't listen and even if I were to tell as an adult (as I have many times), she would feel like it's a personal attack. Unfortunately, these feelings have been with me for as long as I can remember, maybe 16-17 and only progressed from there. Somehow, I'm still here.


No way! there's a lot of people that cut me down like that too, so i guess im in a pretty similar situation to yours. Your not alone and neither am i


Be glad you're so young. If I had taken advantage of my teen years and utilized them to stop these feelings from sprouting further, I wouldn't be in the situation I'm in now.

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