How much longer?

This is my first post here. I’m sorry for the wall of text; I just need a place to vent these thoughts and I don’t know where else to go with them, as I haven’t really told the full story to anyone else like this. I hope this is the right place; if not, at least typing this out might help a little.

Where do I begin? I’ve been dealing with depression and suicidal thoughts for as long as I can remember. Growing up for me was a terrible experience. I was physically abused by my mother, my stepfather and my sister, often for no reason whatsoever. Other than that, I’ve seen them get into terrible fights very often, to the point where I’d just cry uncontrollably. Police was involved multiple times. No one ever cared about me during that time. I’ve had to become an adult at a very young age and I hate myself for not having done more to fix it back then.

For a very long time, I have had no recollection of these events whatsoever. I knew that they had taken place, but other than that I could not actually remember anything of it. There are entire years of my life that I still don’t remember. Recently, I have been remembering more and more as a result of my ketamine (ab)use. Today is the first time I’ve remembered actually being hit. I’ve been trying to deal with these issues in a clinical context for some years now, with a psychotic episode three years starting my “career” in psychiatric care.

I wish I could tell you how many therapists and institutions and medications I’ve been on, but I stopped counting them some time ago. Not like it really matters anyway. I’ve never really had the chance to actually talk to someone about these things – I’ve been on waiting lists and temporary therapies for so long that I don’t even see the point in asking for more help; they’d only refer me someplace else where I’d have to wait for months again until they then decide that I’m not at the right place after all and that they need to refer me someplace else, etcetera.

I don’t know how much longer I can take this. Every day I think of suicide all day long, no matter what I’m doing or how I’m feeling. Am I wrong for thinking that maybe I should just… Do it? Bring an end to my suffering? I mean, what used to hold me back was the thought of hurting the people who care about me, but then again, I won’t have to deal with that when I’m dead anyway. I’m afraid that if I do call someone and tell them that I feel like this, they’ll lock me up involuntarily and just drug me until I don’t feel anything anymore – which is pretty much what being on antipsychotics felt like.

Even if whatever therapist I would tell this whole story feels genuinely bad for me, I just know that I’ll be waiting and waiting for nothing to happen at all. So… What else can I do? I actually used to keep a bunch of my old Seroquel prescription just in case I ever wanted to “do it” with an overdose, but apparently I’ll only fuck up my brain with that, so that’s probably not a good idea. I wish I lived in the US so I could just get a gun with some bullets and get it over with already.

I feel so ashamed for writing all this. It’s the first time I’ve ever done anything like this, so I’m sorry if I didn’t make any sense at all here. All I know is that I don’t see myself ever being happy with life… I’m only staying alive because that’s what people want me to do, not because I want to live any longer.

If you got this far in reading this rant, thank you. That’s all I really needed from this post – even if just one person in the world reads this, it will mean a lot to me. I’m sorry for having bothered you, but I really do appreciate it.