Hi, I'm new here, needless to say. I'm normally not one to share---it rarely results in anything good---but I suppose that for one of the first times, I needn't apologize for airing out my issues... and my desperation. Skip the first paragraph if you want; it's mostly background. I'll start from the beginning. I've always had problems, as far back as I can remember. I never felt especially good about myself, I had troubles socially, and I generally suffered a lot. It wasn't until age eight that my parents caught on at all---I've always been resilient (so I never broke down), I didn't know that things weren't supposed to be so difficult, and I barely showed any outward difficulty---and then it wasn't until I was 13 that they really began to understand that I suffered from serious depression during the wintertime (the other issues weren't identified properly). I gradually got it under control to the degree that I could, but my difficulties with self-esteem and socializing continued. My best year came in my second year of high school, when the problems were a bit less than usual. The next winter (2000-2001), we had the gloomiest winter I've ever seen. I became horrifically depressed, and my mind went a bit nutty in OCD fashion. I messed myself up pretty badly trying to deal with those symptoms, symptoms I didn't really understand. It has been all downhill since then; I've never fully recovered from that winter and what it spawned. My last year of high school and the ensuing three years were horrible. I did well in school---that has never been an issue for me---but everything else sucked, and my mind continued to be a superlatively unpleasant place. I had some better times---note that this is highly relative---during my later years of college, but it was still hard. Then I had another episode in 2008, and I've never really recovered from it. Fast forward to today, over four years after graduating from college. I've done nothing of substance since that time. I have suffered in progressively greater amounts. I understand the problems now: I've always had a deeply ingrained idea (probably from childhood; my parents blame themselves) that I have something wrong with me, and this has led to very bad things. I loathe myself immensely, I completely lack the conception that anyone could care about me (let alone enjoy my company), I'm disconnected from myself, and I'm generally inert. In my childhood, my teen years, and most of my 20s (I am 29), I endured through the difficulties because I believed that things would get better (more accurately, I believed that they had to get better). This is no longer the case. I am almost bereft of hope now. I have behind me a lifetime of suffering: few enjoyable experiences, a sparse social life, no relationships with the opposite sex, little meaningful success, constant suffering, and no happiness. To add to the pain inherent to this, it also means that I have nothing to which I can anchor myself and say "Things could be better." I don't know life without burdensome difficult that has ranged from significant to terrible, so I have nothing really to hope and nothing to look back upon but lots of suffering. Where the future is concerned, I've an extremely negative view. I can't help but think I'll just experience more of the same. More, what experiences will I never be able to have again, and how far behind have I sent myself? Who would possibly want me now? I'm told that I discount all of my good qualities and that I've an almost delusionally negative view of everything---myself included---but I have great difficulty in believing this. The mental health system has been of little help. I have been left to figure out everything on my own; though some of the abundant therapists I've seen have been helpful in offering support, none have really managed to dig beneath the surface to get at what's there. My inherent psychiatric difficulties are within my ability to treat. The crushing depression brought on by my psychological difficulties, or more specifically the conditions they create---not to mention all that I've lost as a result of them---come from my psychological difficulties. I've been treated extensively in interventions for depression. It is an unfortunate reality that I cannot tolerate medications. I believe I've now tried about 20. Only one of them has helped to any degree, and it is not enough to win anything on its own. I've also had ECT done (after all else failed); that, too, was ineffective, in addition to being naturally unpleasant. Ultimately all of this treated the effect rather than the cause. As I mentioned, I was left to figure out the true difficulties on my own. I think I've got a good handle on them now, but it feels like it's too late. I've gone over the past and the future. Most relevant is the present, in which I am suffering horrifically. I live in a sort of perfect agony that is apparently lacking in avenues for respite. I'm burdened down with a highly unpleasant mind, horribly negative views of myself and the world, and dreadful depression. I am running out of hope, and mental illness coupled with no hope is a dangerous combination. Suicidal ideation began about six months ago, and it has become worse. In the past, my concerns centered around making my life better. Now they are about not wanting to suffer anymore. I have constant urges to end it all. I know that being suicidal to this degree indicates severe mental illness on my part, but right now this is my reality. Much of it is pure exhaustion; I am drained of will and hope from living with my problems for such a long time. I have a supportive family, I have access to good medical care, and I've never wanted for material possessions or money. But that's not enough, as I'm sure many of you will agree with, and it seems to avail me of little anyway. I am lately finding less and less reasons to continue on, and, in sum, I cannot see anything to live for. The future seems only to hold more pain and suffering, and I can't cope with my troubles or do anything with my life in the present. I cannot even fully understand that people would even care were I gone; I know it logically, but it remains an abstract concept to me insofar as my perceptions of myself play into the matter; of course, who knows if that would be reason enough were I able to fully realize it? Whatever the case, to use an expression that I'm sure others have said in their own desperation, I'm running out of time. If things continue as they are, my desire to no longer suffer will overcome my resilience and self-control, and that will be that. I've resigned myself to the belief that I will likely not make it. I'd rather that it not end that way, but it seems as if I've run out of options. I write this somewhat out of desperation, but I'm not here to ask for help on this complicated problem; it's something I'll need to work through on my own, difficult though that may be, assuming that I have the time. Rather, I'm here because I can say all of this here to people who will understand and not be turned off or pushed away by the mere mention of the dangerous difficulties I have. Thanks for reading.