First I would like to say sorry for the long post. My name's Bethany (Beth for short). I am a 21 year old chick (not yet a woman, but not a girl any more, imo ). I have a son who will be 5 in July, but he's over 1.8 thousand miles away with his father, whom I broke up with 3 years ago. I don't know where to start because everything has something to do with my depression starting around age 10. But I just need someone to talk to, someone who would understand, I feel so alone. My mother, also, suffers from depression, apparently she stopped trying to kill herself when I was 4 years old. Other than my family, I've always been alone; I don't make friends easily. I used to, and occasionally still, cut myself, but I've been trying so hard to stop for my son. Before I had him, I thought the only thing to really give my life meaning was to have a child, I didn't really want one early, but that was the way I felt. But now he is the only light in this dark world that I see. I moved to Missouri from California, there I had medical coverage, but since I've moved here they've denied me twice now. I was doing well when I started taking zolaft, but now I have no money and no way to get it, it just seems like everything in my life sucks. I some times honestly feel like I was born just to be some twisted god's sick source of amusement. I was my mother's "miracle child", she tried to abort me 5 times, so that plays a part in the "sick source of amusement" part. The thought of suicide crosses my mind often, if not once a day, but I do not have it in me to act upon my thoughts, though it's a good thing, sometimes it really doesn't feel that way. Once, when I was pregnant, I got so upset I took a pair of scissors and just started hitting my arm with them. After the "psychotic episode" faded, I realized just how bad it was, I probably needed stitches, but in fear they'd take my son away once he was born, I didn't go to the hospital, instead I wrapped some gauze and tape around my wrist, when asked by my parents I told them it was just a bunch of tiny cuts. Another time I did the same thing, but on my leg, it was pretty bad, though it would clot up, if I stood, it would instantly start bleeding again. The closest I came to actually attempting is when I tried to choke myself out, stupid, I know, but I hated my life and who I am. Again, I'm sorry for the long post, there's a LOT more that I want to say, but I think I've said enough for now.