A month or so ago, my therapist told me "you've suffered long enough." This was meant to be a positive statement, as in "quit beating yourself up over xyz..." The distorted lens through which I saw this statement was "you've suffered long enough.. I wouldn't blame you if you ended it." I took a bottle of pills a couple of weeks ago. My first suicide attempt at age 42, and after being in bed for pretty much 3 straight years. I've been depressed since 1999. I'm surprised I'm still here. This morning I washed some pills down with a bottle of Nyquil. Seems like I can't even complete suicide right. I've read "The Noonday Demon" many years ago. A great book on depression. I know that sounds vague, but I just wanted to point out to myself and others here that "the surest way out of a depression is to hate it so much...." I used to feel good when thinking about that statement. But now I think it's stupid. I hate my life, and everyone in it.