Hey everyone... I'm new here... well, I've been signed up for a few months now and this is my first post. I've wanted to post here for a while but I just don't know what to say. I guess it's time to just spew out things. Please be prepared... this is probably going to be very disorganized, very long and for lack of a better word: half-assed, since I'm very tired. I'm 22 and a half years old and haven't had a job or the motivation to look for one in three years. I basically mooch off of my parents and I've fallen into a hole that I can't climb out of. I suppose I should give you all some back story to my life. Most people would kill to have my life... and I admit I was quite spoiled as a child. I grew up an only child with overworking parents. I got every toy or basically anything I ever wanted and didn't have to lift a finger for anything. That didn't teach me responsibility at all. I didn't get what I needed most though: emotional support. I can honestly say that I may have been emotionally abused by my mother, though I don't think it was intentional. My mom stayed at home and worked endlessly to make the house "perfect" and to achieve what in her mind was the perfect family. She could never accept that I had problems and when I came to her for help, I'd get yelled at and if she caught me crying she'd scream, "STOP YOUR CRYING RIGHT NOW, OR I'LL GIVE YOU SOMETHING TO CRY ABOUT." I was always afraid of her and she told me she was glad, that's how it should be between a mother and a daughter. Whenever I'd try to express my emotions to her I'd be yelled at for "talking back" and possibly slapped occasionally, but they never left any bruises on the surface. She screamed so loud my heart would be jumping in my chest and my whole body would be shaking... As you can probably tell, I think she has her share of emotional problems too and I know she tried, but I can never forgive her for that fact that I never felt the love I should have felt... My dad was never home. He worked long hours from four in the morning until anywhere from four to six at night. I'd have dinner with him, he'd watch an hour or two of television then go to bed. On weekends, he liked to fish or do things to fix up our "perfect" house. Sometimes I swear I think he went out just to avoid my mother's negativity. We never did things as a family. And I learned to avoid them, because they'd always end up in fights or arguments or some sort of unneeded hassle. Normally, I'd only get invited to go to stores with them anyway... I grew up with severe emetophobia (fear of being sick/vomit) and I can remember being in the nurses office every day in elementary school... I had bad social anxiety and I couldn't even eat in front of people without shaking violently. I was made fun of relentlessly to the point I have PTSD from school. I graduated in 2006, but my PTSD from it is so bad, I consider myself still in high school. I relive the horrors every day in my mind of what it was like to walk into school and see and hear everyone getting made fun of... even people in wheel chairs, just for not being able to walk. These things really scarred me, being the overly sensitive person that I am. Through elementary and middle school were no different... I learned how cruel the world was when I was so small. I was always the outcast and gave up on people so quickly. My heart was already crushed and stepped on so much. I never had any long term friends... I was too afraid to get close and I preferred my own, safe lonely world I created in my head. It was safer there for me. I was always always ALWAYS a dreamer. I never knew what I wanted to do with my life. I could never figure out any career plans, and I was never smart enough for anything. A's on report cards don't really show how smart you are... in fact I think I may be slow. Half the time I don't understand what people are talking about even when the use very simple language and terms. I'm sure you can tell my intelligence is really low just from the way I write about things. I was unable to socialize due to pretty bad anxiety and OCD and not having enough experience due to my lack of will and criticism. I tried to learn to do simple every day tasks that people do daily, but they were always too much for me to handle. Just a year ago I learned how to do laundry. I can't help but blame my mother for that as well - she'd try to teach me things and when I had to keep asking her how to do things because I didn't understand she'd yell and say, "I'm better off just going it myself! It's useless trying to teach you anything!" I used to have one talent in something... but I really messed up in that area. I put so much emphasis on what people thought of my productions that I can no longer imagine finding any joy in it. In fact, it makes me physically ill to think about it. About three years ago my family had to move because of severe harassment... people damaging our property and making up stories about us to the point we were in the newspapers for false accusations. I was woken up at 2am on a school night and dragged outside in my pajamas by the policemen because I was accused of egging people's houses... everyone pointed a finger at me. It was all a setup, because people hated me... hated my family. It got so bad that my family and I were going out of our minds...we had to move. So there it went forever: the place that contained all my bad memories and where all my friends lived. But the bad memories and weak relationships were all I had, all I ever knew. I thought at least I could try to make a new start. Possibly gain some good friends and make more of an effort, but I ended up isolating myself even more. Going out of the house possibly 3 times a month at most. I was too afraid to even drive in fear I'd mess up like always and get in an accident or something. I lack confidence to trust myself to do anything correctly. Three years I've been sitting in this room doing nothing except worrying and crying and wanting to die. My emetophobia got so bad I could only eat very little for two years... like peppermints and ginger to settle my stomach so I wouldn't throw up. I obsessively do tasks like washing my hands until they feel clean enough - this often results in them cracked and bleeding so bad I can't move them without the dry cracks making me want to scream. I used to have to hit my head against the wall a number of times until it felt "right." This often lasted hours. My hygiene got so poor for a while that I got severe acne all over my body so bad it would hurt to lean against anything, or to lay down. That was also due to obsessively exercising in the house - I couldn't do it outside in fear I might have to say hello to someone walking down the street, which would cause me to panic. The exercising gave me an escape from the pain... it allowed me to daydream very vividly, but I damaged my knees pretty bad from doing it about sometimes 4 hours straight, non stop running. Nowadays I can barely get myself to walk to the bathroom, let alone run to escape the emotional pain like I used to. I've had two eating disorders in my life : anorexia for a year, eating 500 or less calories a day, sometimes as little as 200... which then developed into binge eating disorder. I still get bouts of it when something really tasty is in the house and no one is around. I still hide food in my room sometimes though, for when the mood strikes. I suppose I was lucky that the EDs mostly went away on their own. I never got help for my emotional problems because my parents would scream that psychiatrists only wanted money and that medication would make me worse than I already was. They still make me feel guilty for considering it now and since I have "everything to live for" and that depression "is all in my head" and I can just "snap out of it" or that it's just "boredom". I have no health insurance and no money, since I've been out of work for such a long time so not like I can get those things anyway. I have no more strength to go on anymore. I stayed in bed from three in the morning until six at night today. Getting up is getting exceedingly difficult. I have no more will to go on. No friends, no energy, no interests... I have a boyfriend who lives 9 hours away who tries to support me, but he suffers from depression as well. I can feel myself dying. I've thought of suicide countless times, but never seriously tried anything. I know I don't need to... I was so sad a month ago, that I know that if I let go enough I can just die. I believe I had my first NDE that night I was so sad... felt myself drifting and the pain going away, but sadly it scared me and I felt myself "come back to". I wish I just kept drifting... Maybe some day soon, my body will finally just give up. Thanks for reading this post. Hopefully I get some replies, but I have some fear that I'm going to be yelled at by people and I don't know why.