Been staring at my screen for awhile. I saw this topic, read through, and then bounced back and forth between "Privacy" and "You always end up oversharing anyway". But I preach all the time offline that mental health discussions need to stop being so taboo in this country so here we go.
My name is Abby (not giving anything away, it's in my username and i'm sure people put 2 and 2 together) and i'm in my 20's. I've always had struggles with depression and bad thoughts, but i'd always been able to manage them and put on a great happy facade for people. When things got bad (which i'll get to), it was filled with, "I never suspected she had issues" from everyone. I think it was a combination of environment and brain chemistry. Something obviously isn't right in my head, but I grew up in an extremely Republican, conservative, religious, white, small, midwest town. The white part matters because i'm mixed race, and to the people in that town, it just meant I was not white and I honestly was treated different because of it. I remember once cops were called on me for breaking something on the other side of town, when I wasn't even in town that day. And mom wonders why I never come back to visit. That place was terrible to me.
But it was during that time, that the combination of environment/brain chemistry made for some serious depressive bouts. I was young and didn't prepare adequately, but I did attempt suicide twice. No one ever found out. I moved to the 'city' after high school and things improved a bit. Still very white, but there was a better mixture and I rarely had racial epitaphs thrown at me. It was also after high school that weight gain crept up on me. I continued to struggle with nonstop depression, and never told anyone. I wasn't ashamed, I just thought I could handle it on my own. But I spent a lot of time alone, which wasn't good for me.
Finally in 2015, I had enough. I decided to take 12 months (June 2015-June 2016) to get healthy. My diet and working out regime was insane. I share it with people sometimes and they all think I was insane. I ended up dropping 103 lbs in that 12 months. I had started seeing someone in 2016 even, which had been the first time in awhile. My depression was still there, but it was like, running on a slightly quieter wavelength (if that makes sense). Well, that relationship ended up being toxic with them lying to me constantly and cheating on me with their ex. At the time, my beloved cat (who I posted in the pets thread) had just been diagnosed with lymphoma, and everything else in my life kinda went off the rails. And it was like all that bottled depression and stress erupted like a Yellowstone geyser, and I attempted to end my life. Cops got involved for the first time and I ended up spending time in the mental health ward at a local hospital. I checked out 3 days later (against doctors orders), and wound up back in 3 days later. I spent a decent amount of time there this time.
I got out and started therapy and anti-depressants. The latter didn't work long. My body seemed to acclimate fast and the positive effects just faded. I ended up not refilling my prescription after a point, and it didn't change anything from the previous few weeks. I continued going to therapy though. It seemed to help some. I moved in with some new friends, and everything seemed to be improving. I quit therapy in February 2019 though once my therapist made an inappropriate, unprompted comment to my face about my boobs. I just never set up another appointment after that day, and his office never reached out to me. Things went bad with my new roommates and I decided I needed a change. I stored stuff in my friends shed, packed up my car, and moved to Minnesota.
The depression is still gnawing at me. Things started off well enough. I had a job, and was let go after a few months. That really was a blow to my psyche because i'd never been fired from a job before. Ever. And it wasn't for anything that I did. It was strictly political, so to say. I got another job less than a week later and I did end up losing that one in Feb/Mar of this year because I spoke up at a meeting about concerns on how the company is ignoring covid precautions. Right after that, the riots started and then covid lockdown. I ended up getting covid at the end of summer. Also, right before I lost my 2nd job, I started seeing someone. First time in 3 1/2 years. So during this time of riots/covid, I haven't been working. Got money from stimulus, the bonus unemployment money, and just unemployment in general. My SO decided it'd be best if I didn't work, because then I can take care of apartment stuff and driving them to work/class/etc. And I am ok with playing housewife essentially. I feel worthless not bringing in money though. And that's been doing a number on my depression, on top of my cat of 16 years passing away recently. (RIP 2001-2020). Unemployment runs out next week and while i'm finally looking for work (at my insistence), i'm not optimistic. People are different here when it comes to employment than back home. And I worry. I worry I won't be able to pull my weight financially. Rent is already almost late and I am so short. I talked with mom about maybe borrowing some. I have till Friday. So there's a huge stresser there.
As silly as it sounds to people, my brain had flirtations with suicide after I lost my cat. I still cry all the time over the loss of him. But he was more than a pet, he was like family. I had him for 16 years. It's just not the same without him. I don't even believe in life after death but I thought that maybe, just maybe, I would have SOME chance of seeing him again if I was dead as well. I've always felt like i've been a bother to people. Online, offline, whatever. I get people have their own lives and maybe they don't wanna talk to me 24/7 but I have serious abandonment issues from growing up till now. It just feels like i'm not worth anyones time unless they need something. Even my friend group now, I secretly thing they only humour me because they like my SO. I've also gained weight since I moved here (after dropping 40 lbs in 3 months too right before I moved), and i'm extremely unhappy with my appearance. Everyone says, "You're not fat", but i'm definitely chunkier than I was over a year and a half ago. I've also always had a severe body dysmorphia/disassociation issue too so that combined with some recent weight gain, I feel like i'm too grotesque to be seen by other people. That i'm worthless, and better off dead. And i'm not even a vain person. I just feel like i'm so terrible inside and out that i'm not worth anything.
The only reason I haven't killed myself is it'd inconvenience my SO. They have a lot on their plate and i'm not worth enough to disrupt it for any means. They are aware of my mental health issues, but I don't think they know about the severity. I can't do therapy as I have no insurance. I can barely afford my meds for unrelated issues either. And without them, I will die. So that's always a worry on my mind. Am I that pathetic that even my body is working against me to do the simple act of living, that I need to take meds twice daily to stave off an early death? Those meds could go to someone else, why should I even keep taking them? I won't amount to anything anyway. I love my SO and they love me but I KNOW they can do better. Anyone would be better than me. I have nothing to offer anyone.
I just don't know what to do anymore. That with such political division in this country, and the rampant greed, I just don't wanna deal with anything anymore. If i'm dead, I don't have to work, I don't have to risk getting Covid again (which i'm terrified to return to work because people made masks political like a bunch of jabronis), I don't have to deal with this insurance crap, I don't have to pay insurance, my SO can find someone better, resources I consume can go to others. So, why bother living? I've been running but i'm always barely avoiding running out of fight. I'm tired of fighting.
And this has been my overshare.
EDIT: This wouldn't have been so long if I was on my phone. I finally dug my laptop out of the closet. So, with a full keyboard, I have diarrhea of the fingers