I'm writing this in response to some comments I've read in many of the posts on this site. I am much older than many of you...don't know if I'm any wiser...but I know that I probably had my first bout of depression when I was about 15 years old. I suffered off and on for so many years with no support, frankly, with no one in my life who cared enough to even notice. As far as my family was concerned, as long as I got good grades, everything was fine. They didn't see that inside I was terrified, that every day felt like a burden. They didn't understand how it felt to wake up in the morning and be disappointed to be still alive. I don't want to "trigger" any one but they didn't even notice when I came to the breakfast table with both wrists bandaged from a lame attempt to cut them. But I survived. And finally, many, many, many years later I was referred to a psychologist who diagnosed my illness. Now I am finally getting the treatment I should have had when I was a teenager. It's been over five years of medications and therapy. Things still aren't great. There are still days when I wish I weren't here but at least now I feel like there is hope. So to those of you who are where I was so many years ago, all I can say is keep looking for the help you need now! Keep asking until someone answers. No one knows what the future holds for any of us but at 18 or 20, there are an awful lot of possibilities out there. Believe me, I know how much it hurts, I really do but hang on and don't give up on yourselves.
