Hey, I came here today because everything hurts so bad that I can't physically talk about it, and it would be easier to type this out instead. I'm not sure exactly where to start. Perhaps some history first? I've had depression for 10-11 years now. The first year was probably the worst, when I first began having suicidal thoughts. Suicide never felt like more than short term thoughts though, and I didn't really take them seriously. I learned most of my coping abilities then, and moved away which felt like starting over. Depression since then has come and gone perhaps a couple times each year. It always felt more like a new emotion, that'd I'd almost describe as extreme melancholy. Jump to about 2 years ago, I had been working for awhile at a stressful job doing tech support. Daily, I was yelled at by ungrateful customers. Ultimately, I started to feel physically sick to my stomach when just thinking about going to work. So I called out sick, frequently. This eventually led to me just quitting my job, as I had begun getting severe suicidal thoughts. I was slowly getting better, but I eventually ran out of cash to continue living on my own, which led to moving back home with my parents. My parents don't exactly understand depression. They feel it's just me being lazy. avoiding work, and I'm somehow enjoying my time that I spend living in their house. Quite often I am reminded of their opinion by my mother's yelling. It's approaching a year now of staying with my parents. I've continued to look for a job the entire time I've been here, but there hasn't been much for decent job opportunities that I've found. I feel my depression getting worse again because I'm staying here. I think the main problem lies with never getting out to socialize with my old friends (since I'm now living across the country with my parents), and the constant stress of dealing with my mom. This has really brought me to my limit, and I'm out of ideas how to handle this stress-caused depression. Today, like many days, my mom is screaming at me to move out of the house, but I don't know where I'd go. I have no significant amount of cash to live on my own. I will not allow myself to be homeless. Throughout my depression there was always something that I could cling to, that would prevent me from suicide. For awhile, when I was religious, I thought I'd go to hell for being a suicide. Later, when things got bad, I'd maybe buy some fun toys that would cheer me up. Lastly, and I thought my best plan, was that if I was going to suicide, then I could choose when I would die. Then, since I knew when I would die, I could blow my cash, on visiting some location that I wanted to see before I die. Unfortunately, I don't even have the means for that anymore. After all my years, I ultimately determined that when I was out of hope, is when I'd suicide. So today, I am out of ideas and hope. At least it feels good to get this all written down somewhere.