A couple of years ago, my mother tried to have me committed. She had come to visit my elderly aunt I live with. Why she felt the need to do this, is beyond me as I was not suicidal at the time. I told them at the emergency room that even though I was hurting and at times thought about it, I wasn't currently suicidal. They released me, but my mother wouldn't pick me up because I "refused to get help" That wasn't true....I refused to let her control my life in such a selfish way. They ended up letting me go any way. I had to walk over 13 miles in the dark. That entire walk I felt sad, angry, hopeless and a lot of other emotions. For several months after, my mother acted like I didn't even exist. This all proved one thing: she didn't give a damn about me "getting help" Last month I tried to tell her for some reason I was feeling depressed and unsure about life. I didn't say it directly. But she said something that made me angry. She said if I were thinking of doing something drastic, it would be detrimental to her. When she said that I thought about that night walking in the dark. She had no fucking clue how many times I wanted to take my life as I was walking through that darkness. She didn't care. I guess that's why I'm starting to hate my family.....they talk about right and wrong and responsibility, but in the end, I rarely see them practice what they preach. I am 31 years old and the only time I am remotely seen as an adult is when someone wants to put me down for not being in a certain place in my life, because apparently every adult my age is perfect. I don't need that shit. That, along with four years of pain, is why I have to take my life. I'm not sure if this made sense, but if it didn't feel free to ask for clarification.