When is enough, enough?

At the age of 17 I was diagnosed with clinical depression, split up with my girlfriend, stopped eating for 1 week, stopped drinking water, lost 3 stone in just 2 weeks. Fluoxetine 60mg a week makes you feel empty, emotionless… No happiness, no sadness; just a zombie. You question your purpose more than ever in that state, “Why am I here…” “Why am I alive” “I’m useless” “No one cares”. I attempted suicide 3 weeks later, sometimes even the saddest people don’t have the strength to go through with it all the way. I was later admitted to see a psychiatrist weekly under the suspicion of bipolar disorder; the perks of the NHS was my psychiatrist barely spoke English, I couldn’t understand him… I couldn’t trust him… I just nodded and agreed. I was dismissed just 4 weeks later being told to “drink warm milk before bed”. At this point I was re-planning to commit suicide, painless suffocation. Little did naive me know at the age of 17 was that my parents had been monitoring my browsing history out of fear, with no bank card I couldn’t go through with what I wanted, peace. I later took up cannabis, It filled my emotionless void with somewhat temporary happiness, I enjoyed these times with my best friend, talking over our issues just being at one with yourself and the world.I limited myself with this, I wanted to overcome my issues myself; I took up the gym, 5 days a week… Went from 6 stone to 12 stone after 10 months; I was finally back to the weight I should of been. However not every story has a silver lining, my mental health never changed. I live with my girlfriend now, studying IT at university and trying to better my future. She never knew my instability until now. Constant emotionless state of the depressing void that is life, random out bursts of excessive crying and a loneliness sensation, random outbursts of anger and hatred which you hate yourself for because you just can’t figure it out yourself to explain to the one you love why you feel that way? I don’t know why she’s still with me… She still doesn’t fully understand because you just can’t word how you feel, especially to the one you love. When I’m alone I sit and think “how can I fix this? She deserves better” and then you realise… You can’t. Suicidal thoughts are a limbo but I don’t want to leave her? When is enough, enough? How much suffering do I have to endure before it stops? How much suffering does she have to endure before I stop? I question often if her life would be better without me… Will she be at peace if I was at peace… The world could be a better place then.

Does the aftermath of suicide outweigh the pain of living with yourself?

19 years of age… Not a single spec of hope for a stable life.

Maybe I’ll come alive when the light dies.

(apologies for the terrible structure and wording, not really in a mindset to write essays, just express)