I'm not exactly sure what the point of this thread or post is. Sorry if this is in the wrong area. I'm just new to this forum and feel like I have a thing or two to say. I've been struggling with suicidal thoughts in my life since a young age. The earliest I can think of is when I was in grade three. I came home one day feeling so disconnected and un-loveable that I decided to try and xxxx. I didn't think this wouldn't work at the time, because I was so young. I spent the next few hours between my bedroom and bathroom, crying. I don't remember exactly how long after, but I remember feeling like something wasn't right, and then finally deciding that I had to tell someone. I decided that someone was my mom. When I finally managed to explain to her what I was trying to tell her, she started crying, and asked me why. I couldn't explain it to her. I remember being in her arms and feeling her deep sobs as I wished I'd never felt that way. I hurt even more from knowing how much it hurt her to hear about it; I felt love but no resolve. I can remember several times after that feeling like there really was no point in life, that the end is pretty much inevitable anyway. Like life isn't much more than a waiting room that you never wanted to be in the first place. I cut myself at times through junior high. I got caught once by a girl that I still to this day know. I told her it was my cat. She said it was just a way to get attention. Being as how this wasn't a regular thing for me to do at the time I felt like a very lonely depraved individual when she said that. I never wanted to let anyone know that I was feeling more and more belief in the idea that I'd feel this way forever- and no one could either save me from it- nor understood it. I think this was about the time when I started feeling like that my feelings were selfish- and I was just wanting a reason for people to pay attention to me. The most significant next occurrence though, was definitely when I tried to kill myself during my grade 11 year. I got caught smoking weed- indirectly- by a teacher at my school. She decided to bring me to "justice" a week and a half later. I consequently was not allowed to participate in battle of the bands. I'd began taking a medication known as accutane for acne in the latter half of the previous year. Doctor asked me if I'd experienced depressive tendencies in the past, and of course denied any such thing (as I had not talked to anyone about it openly since the incident with my mother in grade three). Turns out it had a side effect of causing depressive and even suicidal thoughts, especially in teenage males. I was too afraid of being found out and excited with the thought of not being self concious about my acne to bring my concerns to light. I decided that I'd had enough that day, and when I arrived home, proceeded with my attempt. Since there were outside motivations- I'm pretty sure everyone who knew exactly what really happened before I tried (accutane's side effects not included, or that I was on it), assumed that it was: -marijuana, or other drugs, (who knows what I could have been taking if I have been smoking that stuff, right?) -an easy way to avoid punishment -a way to show how sorry for myself that I was feeling. I moved on in life. Never telling some- letting many assume what they wanted to about me and what I did. Graduated high school and still wonder how many people know, or what they know. I don't even know if most of my grad class really did know- as I just never really talked about it with many people. I mean, why would you want to talk about it? I never felt like I could really explain myself without telling people my life story- and what I truly believe about the world. In reality when you're trying to explain why you tried to commit suicide I often feel like there is no way to explain it without having people feel that they should pity you, or that you are demanding pity from them. I absolutely hate that. I'd much rather just have someone listen without putting that on me (if it's possible, my problem or theirs). It's a big reason I can't talk about it openly. Anyway. It's been about six years since then and I have still had the same feelings of futility, lifelessness, loneliness, uselessness, and all that other happy fun stuff that I feel are motivation for me to sink into suicidal thoughts. I feel like I can't stop them from happening. I haven't acted on it since my first attempt; but I can't say that it is for my own personal reasons. I've mostly just set up blocks in my mind like "Don't hurt your mother like that, don't let your friends think it's their fault they couldn't/didn't help you, if you didn't actually die (again) think of the humiliation you'd suffer, how much time you'd spend having to hide yourself again, and how much harder it was when everyone was aware of you being unsatisfied..." I'm not always unhappy. There is plenty of beauty in my life. I just don't understand why I crash so hard periodically. I've recently reached a point in my life where I feel like I am being pulled in more directions than ever before, and feel like I am handling it better than I thought I would handle life as it is for me now, but still long to be free of self-destructive nature and thoughts. I just want to make something good of myself, but feel like I'm constantly disapproving, not just of myself, but society, and the world around me too. I don't know what the root of it all is. I have never felt like I have been understood fully. I have seen counsellors and such in the past, but felt that it never did me any good, as I know they are just there to feed me some recycled garbage about "not falling off the tracks", or "staying out of the ditch on the road of life".... I've never met someone with the patience or emotional intelligence to learn to understand me, nor do I believe if I met my exact double that I'd have the patience to learn to understand him. Even with those I feel closest to, I feel like I am hiding a lot from them. So I'm just wondering I guess, am I alone in this?