Well there are some changes. I was here since 2007 and since my last posts, I still suffer. Click my name and look at my last thread (from 2007) before reading this. So within these 4 years, my father had passed (which has been a huge trigger in my depression) and now living at home once again. So imagine this - I finally decided to go to California and pursue a life long dream of going to college there. Here is the catch - my father was going through chemo and radiation for esophageal cancer and liver cirrhosis (non-alcoholic). This was in 2009. He went through the radiation and chemo treatments, and I thought "you know what, you might as well do something with you life!" So I did - I got an apartment in California, bought the plane tickets and was on my way. The day before I left, as my father sat in his chair, skin and bones from the chemo, asked "is this for real?". I sighed and said "of course this is". The next day, the day I was going to leave. I can remember everything about that day. I remember getting my new laptop ready, I remember laying in my room thinking "well, this is the last time I lay in my bed". I remember picking up my Mom from work early so she can help me pack a little bit more before my flight. I pick her up, go to where my father sat and he stared at me. We all waited for my ride to get to the airport. I was nervous, and when the horn beeped I got the jitters because I knew I was FINALLY doing something for ME. I looked at my father and went to go hug him. "Please don't go" as he cried uncontrollably. "I have to" being the smart alleck I am. So the last physical touch with my father was him crying to me telling me not to go. July - beginning of November I was in California. Then it happened. November 14th 2009, the day I will dread forever. I happen to have slept that whole day for some reason. It was a Saturday and I figured I'd have a relaxing weekend. I go to call my Dad on his cellphone. No response. I called the home phone, no response. Probably 25 minutes after that I get a call from my Aunts Cell. I knew something was wrong. It was about 7:00PM in Cali and about 10:00PM in Jersey. My Aunt is already in bed by 9:30ish. I knew it. I just knew it. She told me very calmly that Dad had passed. My reaction was "what in the hell am I suppose to do?!" With that said, I made endless calls to everyone, I tried reaching out to friends who didn't even bother to call back just to ask if I was ok. By the next day I was on a plane. Stuffed in a coach seat and dying from pain because I was squished and I'm morbidly obese, so the chair didn't fit me and I was at a window seat squished. 9 hours later I was at the Airport. I was sobbing beyond control and didn't know if I could make it to get home. I called my Aunt, called my friend, and with their words I was able to muster enough strength to get up and go to the taxi to get me home. It's been a year since his passing, and within the year, I tried 4 - 5 times to kill myself by <Edit Mod method> All failed attempts. I tried <Edit Mod method> to see if I can suffocate my body - again a failed attempt. I am seeing a Therapist, Psychologist, Nuerologist, and a regular doctor, all under charity care because I cannot afford any of their services without it, plus I am too morbidly obese to work, let alone walk. I am taking a ton of pills including depression pills. All seem to work for a little bit then die down. I am now at the point of rock bottom once again. I am sick of this. Why can I not just get the right to legally suicide myself? Isn't there a doctor who can do such a thing? Honestly I am just tired. After 15 years of depression, 15 years of people (including family) telling me I am not depressed and to 'shake it off', where can I get MY relief? I don't know what else to do anymore, I tried to make myself better but it's not helping me. I don't see the rainbow after this storm, I don't see the 'it gets better' campaign helping much. I've waited FAR too long for my peace, and I cannot do it anymore. I want to just swallow <Edit Mod method> my house and at this point, I don't care how much I suffer. As long as I die I will be ok. At this point I am not concerned with how my family will react. I'm sure they will get over it as much as they did with my Dad and other family members. I wish they'd understand how much pain I endure daily, and not just mental, but physical. No one understands me anymore, no one really and truly feels the way I do. I'm going to end it soon.