I joined PC after a very long reclusive "spell" of avoiding interaction with anyone (besides immediate family), including interaction with people on the internet. Every time I lapsed into a major depressive phase I would tell myself, "I need to talk to people. I need to share what I'm going through and relate to others", and here I am again, depressed as all get out, and it feels every word I type I'm fighting against an invisible force that wants to keep me silent. I don't know what to say, I worry that people will think I'm strange (if I'm perfectly honest with myself, I kind of am), I worry that no one will care. I worry that I'm beyond damaged and talking about my pain and problems won't lead to the catharsis I crave. I worry that someday I'm going to snap (lose my mind) and that will be that. Refractory depression runs in my family. Family members have committed suicide, they've been on every medicinal cocktail possible, they've been through a string of therapists over the course of their lives, they've tried ECT, the list goes on. My family is literally cursed with depression and mental illness - it just won't go away. Or remit. It gets progressively worse with age, no matter what anyone does. I don't have the will to try the meds and therapy again...why should I? I've already seen how this story ends. It's acute pain and suffering until the very end. I feel doomed. I've already sacrificed so much of my life, alone, afraid and despairing. I've lost out on the opportunity to have a family of my own; I've lost out on establishing myself in the professional world; I don't even want to think about my dating prospects. I'm a drain on society, a non-productive citizen. I have no purpose in life; I live to exist. I can't even touch the bottom of my self-loathing, it runs so deep.

Where on earth am I supposed to go from here?