Hi. I read the forum and seeing people who'd told their whole lives, I tried to do the same. It is a long post but if I don't put it up then it will remain inside me and I want to get it out. I had an odd, lonely kind of childhood. Didn’t really fit in, clueless around other children, troubled for unknown reasons. At secondary school I either had awful, depressed, empty years or full, active ones but I rarely socialised outside school and wasn’t very close to anyone. I spent a lot of time on my own. At sixth form I got very close to a friend’s family and spent more time at their house than my own, but I remained socially awkward and troubled, nearly always for reasons I couldn’t understand. I dropped out of university the first time I went because I just couldn’t make friends with anyone. I was completely uncertain of myself, unable to relax with anyone and then very confused and clueless about what was up with me. When I went back to uni after a year out I found a good friend who seemed to like my oddness and so I felt more confident but I remained strange to most people, distant and often thought I longed to be more alone. The future was a complete blank to me. In my final year I acted on my impulse to avoid everybody by living alone and I was almost immediately suicidal with loneliness. After three months of trying to deny what was up with me I came out to myself. It was devastating and I made my first serious suicide attempt, taking an overdose. When the suicide attempt didn’t work I did not cheer up or feel relieved and I saw out the remainder of the year no longer actively trying to kill myself, but depressed and very anxious. I had counselling but it didn’t help at all. That summer I came out to a friend and then moved in with some uni mates but the house fell apart and I ended up back at my parents. I had got a good degree but I was working in a factory, keeping myself completely aloof from everyone there and socialising with a group I didn’t really know or like. I got into a relationship but it was a complete nightmare, I couldn’t handle it. I was getting more and more depressed and spent a year in that state but when the relationship broke down I had a sudden and shocking reversal, suddenly become almost euphoric in the space of a day. I went too far in that direction, becoming hostile to the friends and environment I’d been down about and rejecting all of it. I began a masters degree but within a few weeks the trouble I had always had being at ease with people brought my confidence down and I was depressed again. I drove around the country looking for chances to kill myself, trying to use carbon monoxide. When it didn’t work I went back to my parents. For months I stayed with them, got on antidepressants and just did nothing until a friend fixed me up with a driving job. Within just a short while I became super-confident again, angry with anyone who challenged or questioned me and determined to move into a gay houseshare and retrain in IT. Once again, the house I moved into ended in an argument and I moved from there to a place with an old friend. My sister was hospitalised with manic depression and I began showing signs of having the same thing, not sleeping and making demands on people, crashing from super-confident highs to terrible lows, often within the same month. I moved again into another gay houseshare and a guy killed himself. I was still super up some weeks and devastatingly lonely and anxious the next but I got a new job. Once again, inside a month I was unable to function for depression and self-hatred. I ran away, hoping to throw myself off a cliff but I ended up just moving round the country for a few nights then back at my parents. That was 1996 and I spent a year on antidepressants with them, piling on weight, doing nothing to help myself, sleeping all the time. The friend I had had at uni moved nearby with his girlfriend and I lived with them. My confidence came back and I got a new job then a place at uni to finally convert my degree to an IT qualification. Yet again, soon after I started the course I could not function for depression. I had friends who knew I was gay and accepted it but I couldn’t allow myself to admit I wasn’t able to handle the course and I paralysed myself with guilt and self hatred. Once again, my only thought was suicide. I avoided the semester exams but took up a work placement in Germany only to be told to come back home, which I did, leaving the course. I returned to the job I had before and got a new flat. In this situation there was no pressure on me but once again within six months I was totally flat and in despair again, unable to face anything. I carried on going to work but totally let my flat go to ruin and became fat again. After a year of unending self-loathing I got my act together but was asked to move out of my flat so I went to stay in a place owned by a friend. My confidence came back but I remained lonely and then my confidence got too high and I argued with the colleague who owned the flat and had to leave both it and my job. My plan was to retrain as a psychiatric nurse but I was turned down so I ended up back at another factory, in a terrible little bedsit. I only stood six months of it before I stopped going to work and lived on money from my dad while planning ever week to kill myself. When my dad’s money ran out I pretended I’d got a volunteer placement and went off to stay in hotels paid for by my credit card while all the time planning to hang myself. I never did and eventually went home and told my parents the truth. I was 31 by this stage. My parents let me move back in but I didn’t do anything to get independent again. Months passed with my just signing on, never sincerely meaning to do anything except get to the end of each day. Eventually I told them more lies about a new job and went off back to where I’d tried to throw myself off a cliff with the intention of drowning myself in the sea. I spent a week sleeping on a beach and going into the sea each night, but drowning wasn’t as easy as I’d assumed. I took a half-hearted overdose then phoned my parents who came to get me. A couple of months after that I really did get a volunteer placement and moved to work with homeless people. I was in a shared house I liked and was happy with no pressure on me, the plan once again being to use train as a nurse. But, again, I ended up in trouble with people. I was accused of undermining team working and was asked to leave. It shouldn’t have mattered because I was suddenly offered a place at university to train as a nurse but I became obsessed with fighting the company that had ended my placement and I started nurse training in another super-confident, wilfully self-isolating state. It crashed within a couple of months and I found myself cripplingly lonely but unable to socialise. I continued with my nurse training for 12 bleak months, spending all my free time gorging and drinking alone and saying as little as possible on placements and at college. Eventually I couldn’t carry on and my tutor agreed to give me an authorised absence for depression. I went back to my parents for four months until I began to get better then resumed my training and finished it. I got a job in a good hospital, the ideal role. I started very carefully, but when things seemed to be going well I became over-confident again, alienating colleagues and people I was sharing a house with. Eventually I was asked to leave that house and within a few days of moving to my next one I was back in despair. I was six months into a 12 month contract doing a good job with supportive colleagues but I was exactly as depressed and immobilised by self-loathing as I had been working in a factory. I was relieved when at the end of 12 months my contract was not renewed, meaning I could simply leave my job. Colleagues who had been hostile when I acted arrogantly became supportive when I was depressed and I left on very good terms but I was still completely screwed up. I spent a month unemployed alone trying to avoid everything, mainly drinking, then moved back to my parents. Once again the only plan I had was to avoid as much as possible and kill myself when I had a chance. My parents became more unhappy about me not finding work and one time when they went on holiday . After six months I told them – once again – that I had got a job, but I went off and lived in hotels. I was intending to kill myself but I never did. I just went and sat in libraries all day then went back to the hotel and got drunk, moving on every few days. When I ran out of money I returned to my parents. My sister was ill again and for by chance I found a local job that exactly suited my interests and experience, working with homeless people. Soon after I began the manager was sacked and what should have been a part time job became 50 hours a week and quite stressful, but I liked it. I moved into a lovely shared house where my aloofness was tolerated and then I got a place on an advanced nursing course. I was working in a job I liked, studying and living in a good place. For a year or so I had the most stable time of my adult life. During the long first placement of my new course my strategy of staying distant from people was tested almost to destruction. The placement was difficult but finished well and when it was over I somehow flipped back into my intolerant, super-confident mode and began taking issue with tutors and the uni I was at. Friends from the course warned me to cool down but I didn’t care, I felt invulnerable. At the same time I argued with the owner of the house I was in. I became so furious with the course I left them no choice but to begin the process of asking me to leave, but before that happened I was offered and got promotion at the homelessness job I’d been doing all that time. I moved to a new house and began the management job I’d got at my old place. But within a couple of months I was lost again: lonely and depressed and confused about what had happened. I asked for redundancy . I had enough savings to live on for two years. But then the savings began to run out and all I can see now as the truth that I am trouble to people I care about and even more of a difficulty for myself and I want it to be over: I would love to be confident that this is the last dip and in a month or two I can be sure I’ll finally be dead.