I can't take keep battling these constant suicidal thoughts, at verge of going through with it.

From the moment I wake up, I feel anxious, depressed, suicidal and have a horrible feeling that goes through the pit of my stomach.

I'm 30 years old now, and I've been suffering from depression since I was a little girl. My mother had PTSD, BPD and drug addiction problems, and tried to kill herself multiple times. A couple of those times I was the one who actually found her after she slit her wrists, stabbed herself in the stomach etc. and I had to be the one to call the police, while trying to stop the bleeding (very hard thing for a kid to handle). Eventually my dad divorced her for our sake, but when I visited her she would get high, throw full cans of soda at my head, let her grown friends make fun of me, and was just terrible. She even did coke with me when I was 15, because she's fucking nuts. All of this led to multiple suicide attempts throughout my childhood and adolescence.

My dad tried his best, but he was a constantly working single father, and didn't know how to deal with it. He tried to get me help by sending to psychiatrists, but all they did was shove pills down my throat, and it made me angry. I dropped out of high school, although I eventually got my diploma at 19 via correspondence.

I had some low paying retail jobs throughout my teens, until I decided at 20 to move to Los Angeles be closer to the music I loved (it was the only thing that gave my life meaning). I moved in with my grandfather, however the city was so overwhelming and crowded I could barely go anywhere. I made it around to a few shows and clubs to be around music, but everyone was incredibly shallow. I tried a couple of jobs, but they didn't last long because I had severe panic attacks.

Eventually I tried to go back to school, started dating, started going to a local mental health clinic, until I was raped by a boyfriend at the age of 24. I was throwing up so violently after that, that I had to drop out of school, and go on disability to help pay for things around the house.

I kept going to the mental health clinic, but none of the medications helped. I've lost track of how many I tried, but it's at the very least 30. The clinic put me in a DBT mindfulness program, and I absolutely hated it. There were a lot of silly acronyms, it was confusing, and I just didn't want to do it. When I asked if I could just try individual talk therapy they got angry, offended and basically refused. If I wanted treatment, I would be forced to participate in this program against my will, so I just left.

Then last year, I stopped pretty much leaving my house. I think a combination of all the trauma and stress and the copious amounts of pot I was smoking led me to have some sort of psychotic breakdown. It was like I died, and I feel like I was in some sort of purgatory or hell. I was believing all sorts of crazy things, and then I started hearing a really abusive voice. It would berate me 24/7, and actually control my body. It would say things like "I'm going to stop your heart bitch" and then my heart would actually constrict in pain. There's a whole lot more I won't get into, but it was like being psychologically and physically tortured for six months straight, every waking hour of the day.

Eventually I became more stable on my own (came back to reality, and stopped hearing the voice), but the whole thing has left me feeling more damaged, traumatized and depressed than I already was. I can't even take basic care of myself.

Not only that but my grandfather is 90 now, and I haven't worked in almost 10 years and I've been on disability for nearly 5 years. When he dies, the house goes to the bank because of a reverse mortgage, so I'll probably be homeless. Even if I miraculously managed to get well, who the hell is going to give me a job?

I've basically given up all hope on life. I've given up on ever being well and having some sense of a good life. Of ever being in love or having a job. Or even having some sense of dignity (I don't even feel like a person anymore). I don't want to go back to that clinic, because they weren't helping before, so why would they help now. I don't want to play medication roulette, and be forced into therapy programs I don't like against my will.

After a lifetime of shit, all I have to look forward to is the possibility of homelessness. Just when I think it can't get worse, it does, so I figure why not just end it now before my suffering gets worse? There's no point.