Hello. I'm here at the suggestion of a friend. I hope I can find some help here. I’ve been struggling with depression for a very, very, VERY long time. The doctors at the hospital would say that it began with my parent’s divorce. My dad says that I inherited my mother’s problems, genetically speaking. I’ve tried to cope, but sometimes it takes so much energy that I just burn out. In middle school, and early high school, I’d eye the medicine cabinet. I’d fill up the bathtub and dunk my head in, but I’d get scared and pull my head back out. May 21st, 2008, I swallowed <Mod Edit, WildCherry: Methods> after leaving my night class early. I then laid down on the couch, and began crying. I was scared. Too scared to die, too scared to live. I spend that Thursday through Monday morning, Memorial Day morning, in the psychiatric ward. I used to think that I learned my lesson, and that I’d be able to cope better. I didn’t go onto medication. I couldn’t afford to keep going to my psychiatrist on a consistent basis, between work and school. I was sure that I had it all figured out. About a year ago, I regressed. I didn’t fall so far as I had, but I was worse than usual. I couldn’t sleep, I had lost so much interest in things, and I just had no will. I butchered my hair in a fit, and afterward I realized that I really had no control over that fit. It had me thinking, and I forced myself to the doctor. I was finally put on medication, and I thought it was working. Then money became an issue. I couldn’t afford to keep going to the doctor once I was hit with my deductible. My prescription eventually ran out, and I couldn't afford the cost of the doctor's visit to get a renewal. I told myself I could handle it. Then six months ago, I regressed again. I was tired and sleepless again, and while I wasn’t butchering my hair, I was pulling it out in greater frequency then ever before. We pulled some money together and got me back to the doctor. A blood test showed that my iron was low. I was put on an iron regimen. I stuck to it for a few months, but my steam gave out and I just couldn’t remember to take it on a consistent basis. Again, I thought I could handle it. Stay focused, keep busy, keep smiling… But now, here I am. It is September, not even the depressive winter season, and I can feel that weight pulling me down. I’ll admit, I’ve been pulling my hair out again for about a month and a half. Yeah, it hurts, but it’s a good pain, and it’s better than cutting myself. My mother did that; I never could. My mother… God, every day I tell myself, “Don’t be like her. Don’t do this, she would do that. I don’t want to be like her.” I love her, but she’s really screwed me up… Because of her, I’m so afraid. In my relationship with my boyfriend, I try to avoid so many of the things that she did in her relationship with her boyfriend. My job has me so screwed up, too. Dealing with these people at the pharmacy, day in and day out, has just messed me up so badly. I’m so jaded, I can’t stand waiting on them anymore. Some of them are good, but others… They make me doubt myself, make me feel worthless, and yet also frighten me. It’s a fear that someday, I’ll end up like them in one way or another. Because of this job, I can’t stand to talk on any phone and I cringe when one rings. I’ve had nightmares, literally, about the stupid bells at the drive-thru… I’ve cried at this job so many times, and I do my best to smile and be friendly, but it takes so much energy that I’m having less and less of. It’s come to my attention that 2 customers have complained about my attitude being depressive or “not smiley,” and I’ve given my district boss attitude twice now. It isn’t as though I can help it. I don’t plan this attitude for days, waiting for the right moment. It just happens, like it always has, ever since High School. I just wasn’t made to be in the public’s eye. And High School, that’s a whole other sack of bananas… I don’t have the energy to type it all here. I need a doctor. I need medication. I need a psychiatrist. I need help, and I can’t afford it. Yet, before long, I won’t be able to afford being without the help. I’m trapped. Trapped in a job that I can’t afford to be without, but is slowly killing me. Trapped in money issues that I can’t dig myself out of. Trapped between afraid to live, and afraid to die.