Some History

My first suicide attempt was when I was 13. I was one of those kids who was picked on a lot, and my teachers didn't take my complaints seriously. Worse, my parents didn't believe me. I was actually accused of making it up. I didn't think anyone cared, so I figured I might as well die. Good thing I can't tie knots in ropes very well. I was diagnosed with clinical depression when I was 15. I had what alcoholics call "a moment of clarity", when during a really bad day, I realized that most people probably weren't wishing they were dead, so I asked the school nurse for help. She got me an appointment with a councellor, who realized she was in over her head and she referred me to a psychiatrist. Eventually, I kind of pulled myself together and went to college. I had my first girlfriend, I was in a program I enjoyed, and for a brief time I was happy and thought I had put depression behind me. I was wrong. When I graduated, I had to face the prospect of looking for work, and also dealing with the return of my suicidal thoughts. My girlfriend tried her best to deal with how I was, but in the end, she had to bail on me, and I don't blame her. I was no fun to be around. I thought that being alone was causing my problems, so I searched for someone else. Met my future wife, and again, things were pretty good for a few years. We got married, and then my job got a lot more stressful, and the stress made my illness worse. My daughter was born in March of 2000, and my wife kicked me out in October, shortly after I attempted suicide. She couldn't deal with the way I had become, and I have no bitterness towards her. All I could see was darkness. I was in my own personal abyss, and consumed with my own pain, I was unable to see how badly I was treating my wife. I lived alone for two years, and that's when I hit rock bottom. I lived in an apartment building, and jumping out the 18th floor would have been pretty easy. I thought about doing that all the time. One day, I realized I was really going to do it, and that's when I decided to go to the hospital. I saw some more mental health professionals, tried many different anti-depressants until I could find one that didn't have horrible side effects, but in the end, it was cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT) that turned things around. I actually did CBT twice, but the first time, I didn't put in the effort, because I didn't think it would help. The second time, for many reasons, I was ready to give CBT a real shot, and it worked. My point in telling you all this is that you can't give up. Medication works for some people, but not everyone. And some meds work, others don't. If one doesn't work, keep trying. If whoever you're seeing isn't great, find someone else. I've had my share of crappy psychiatrists. I kept looking until I found one right for me. CBT has a higher success rate than meds, but you have to put in the effort and trust the process. Whatever you do, keep trying. If something isn't working, go to your family doctor and demand another referral or a different med. If you need help immediately, go to the ER. I had to keep trying all sorts of stuff for more than 20 years before I finally got what I needed. Hopefully, it won't take you that long. But the point is, DON'T GIVE UP. I know the hopelessness, the feeling that things will never get better. Believe me, I know what utter despair is. I have been in that abyss many times, for many years. I got out at last. You can, too.