The Race Between Suicide and A Cure

I’ve been suffering for a long time now. I spend 80% of the time I’m not at work locked away wishing the days would end and that I would never wake up.
I have a good life. Better than most probably. If I was to write a list of pros and cons the pros column would be at least five times longer.
BUT. It doesn’t seem to matter. Every stress and every pressure I feel so extremely. I struggle to shower and get out of bed of my days off, spending at least two days a week in my room. I cry when a stranger speaks to me rudely, when it’s too hot or cold, when something smells unpleasant etc. I want so desperately to cease to exist and everyday I am in agony that I have to keep pushing.
I am alive today because of the people in my life that love me, but the longer I suffer the less that love seems to matter.
I have seen nine mental health professionals over the last six years and been on 8 different combinations of antidepressants and mood stabilisers. I’ve drastically changed my life on three major occasions and it never seems any better.
I don’t know where to go from here. I get closer to suicide each day. It’s seems more logical and less emotional everyday.