From high school through age 30 my life had many of the same elements as Lemmy’s. My big issue was that I couldn’t figure out how to relate to girls/women romantically. I also didn’t want to go to college. I never considered suicide, because I knew it would hurt family and friends who cared about me. I got through college and grad school (although I did drop out of my first grad program partly due to depression). I was fairly successful in my career from the beginning, so depression didn’t keep me from functioning. From 15 until 30 I was struggling with moderate to severe depression over 90% of the time. It got to the point where I was mostly going through the motions. The depression was 100% situational. Since I met my wife I’ve rarely been depressed, and then only mildly. It’s not as if our lives together have been a fairy tale; we’ve been through plenty. But the belief that I would be alone until the day I died made it hard to get out of bed in the morning. I almost always did, but it wasn’t easy. Even though therapy never helped me much as an adult, I should have asked for it as a teenager. Because I was relatively functional and never got into trouble, my parents never suggested it. My wife and I have always encouraged our kids to ask for help when they need it, and they do fairly often. I wouldn’t wish my teenage and young adult years on anyone. I’ve always said that if I hadn’t met my wife when I did I would have ended up hospitalized. I’m not saying I wouldn’t have gotten my life straightened out eventually regardless, but it would have been a difficult process.
I’m not sure that’s “depression”. It sounds more like “teenage angst” and/or “mid-life crisis”.
Depression is more like “What’s the fucking point? Nothing I do matters anyway”.
Actually…yeah, that’s pretty much where I am too.
About 4 years ago I attempted suicide (sort of; I tried to buy the chemicals to make cyanide, then got a knock on the door from the friendly anti-terrorism police…so I didn’t get as far as seeing if I would have gone through with it).
After that, and the therapy that followed, and fessing up to my family, my outlook on life was very different. It’s not that life’s great now and I think I was crazy for ever thinking about suicide…I still fully understand and relate to those feelings.
Just now…I don’t care. I don’t care whether life sucks, or if I’m the world’s biggest failure and everyone is laughing at me…I’m going to milk whatever happiness or new experiences I can from this life regardless.
OK, not inspiring or useful, but thought I’d share anyway 