Here goes... bear with me. New to the forum obviously. I'm 27 years old with a 3 year old son, wife, and home. I had a normal upbringing. I have a decent home life as well. I currently own 2 businesses, the second being a merely a month old. My purpose in starting the 2nd was to get out of the first as it stresses me beyond belief. Do I think I'm suicidal? Maybe. I have thoughts about it constantly. <mod edit: *sparkle*: methods>. I don't feel sad or depressed, I'm just sick of everything. I'm sick of working my ass off only to get fucked in the end... and I get the feeling that the world simply doesn't want me here. Weird isn't it? I seemingly cannot go through a single day in the past year (at least)without enduring some minor or monumental disaster. I have had more bad luck in the past year than I've had in my entire life - ranging from shit breaking/breaking down to honoring an seemingly endless slew of warranties out of my own pocket to being screwed out of 2 other business that I initiated - which have become amazingly successful. Now in my 4th I'm getting screwed over by a competitor that's violating state law and the state won't do a fucking thing about it. I don't want to delve into specifics about these enterprises... let's just say that being an honest businessman is apparently meaningless these days. In these past 3 ventures I have depleted all of my family's savings. My original business is still successful but I can't fucking stand it anymore. I literally have a pure hatred for it and feel nothing but rage every day. But it's my only steady income at this point so I have to keep plugging along at it. Don't take any of this to mean that I'm wealthy by any means. I'm not. In fact, at this point I'm barely scraping by each month. I live in a modest home and drive a 13 year old truck. But this is not a money issue, it's a "tired of getting fucked in the ass" issue on every goddamn thing I do. And each day it compounds. As sure as the sun will rise tomorrow, something else will come along to fuck my day up. I went to a therapist a few months ago. I've never believed in therapy, or even depression for that matter. But I thought I'd give it a shot. Never again. $235/hr for a guy to listen to my diatribe and then try and put me on some drugs. F that. I don't take pills. However, my outlet has been alcohol. I don't drink often, but when I do I binge. I will literally drink until I physically cannot drink anymore, throw up, and resume drinking. I'll black out for hours and not remember a damn thing. A few weeks ago I woke up in a hotel with my gun on the nightstand next to me, loaded and cocked. Haven't a clue. I love my family beyond words, I think that's the only thing keeping me here. But I'm absolutely despising life in general. I never asked to be here. I never asked for the incessant stress and relentless problems. I enjoy nothing these days. I'm currently just droning along with a feeling of numbness towards everything, aside from the rage I feel at work. I'm not even sure what my point in writing this was. Just venting I suppose. It's about all I have left.