All of a sudden in the past few weeks I've gone into a deep depression. I'm not sure of the immediate cause, though I certainly know the general causes and what runs through my brain to keep me depressed and keep me getting worse.

To be brief, here's how my life has played out: My dad's a raging gambling addict. That and the combination of my mother's Dependent Personality Disorder and explosive rage ruined my childhood. My parents never told me they loved me and in fact told me at the age of 4 that I was too old for hugs or physical comforts of that sort, and that I needed to grow up. My mother has told me several times that she wished she never had me. When I'd get picked on in school, she would blame it on me.

When I was 15 I met someone online (a then-22-year old) whom I ended up moving across the country to live with. She pretended to be the only person I'd ever known that actually gave a **** about me and I thought loved me. When I moved in with her she emotionally and sexually abused/raped me. I let it happen for several years because I had nowhere else to go and deluded myself into thinking it was normal. Again--I had nowhere else to go, and the idea of realizing that I made a huge mistake in thinking anyone could possibly love me would've been too much to handle, so I remained deluded and let it happen on and off for 8 years.

When that ended I thought I had everything together. I realized I was transgender and have just recently completed everything I want to--changed my name, had chest surgery (I'm a transguy), changed my driver's license, changed my birth certificate. So that "to-do" list is finished and I had imagined long ago that at this point I'd finally be happy. And I am happy with who I am now much more than before, but I'm still miserable.

I guess I just feel like every experience I've had in my life has taught me to exist in a way that is so different from everyone else on so many levels that I will be permanently ****ed up in that regard. For instance: my mother taught me to never, ever trust people or believe that they give a **** about you. My father taught me to literally never discuss my feelings. The woman who abused me taught me that the only way to potentially get people to like me is to manipulate them into situations where they have to prove it to you. Everyone of those people have taught me that I'm worthless and will have no real effect on the world, and reinforced the idea that I am a gross, atypical human being that no one will ever love. All of my cognitions and emotions throughout the day have the purpose of reinforcing these ideas in some way or another. I panic at the smallest things and am constantly anxious.

Also, I have a significant self-injury problem that is evidenced by years' worth of scars on my chest.

I suppose the worst part of all of this is that rationally I know better and have proven success in treating people with all of these issues because I'm a grad student in clinical psychology (I have no patients right now so there's no ethical problem therein). I know that I'm intelligent--I have a 4.0 and everything about this field makes sense to me. But I have very poor success in therapy for myself because the moment the clinician tries to prescribe anything (behaviorally) to me, I instantly figure out their rationale and make sense of it and, even if it's great advice, the thought that I could figure that out on my own but NOT be able to apply it without someone else's help makes me feel awful. So rationally I know precisely what I need to do and what I would tell someone else in my situation, but I have no ability to actually do it and I have no ideawhy. I'm not suicidal at the moment and rationally believe it would take a lot to get me to that point (i.e., I have no plan or intent), but really my thoughts have been coming back to wishing my brain and how I feel would just stop.

I have one really good friend right now that is a new friend with whom I work. She's a great person and we have a lot of fun together. She's noticed I've been depressed and wants me to call her tomorrow to talk about it, but I have no idea what to say. I'm worried I'm going to drive her away because she'll think I'm annoying, or a freak, or something, even though I know rationally that's not the case. I guess I know that it will probably feel better to tell someone what's going on and get this off of my chest, but I'm petrified that doing so will force me to lose really the only close friend I have right now, just making things worse.

I don't know if anyone can help. I know I'm supposed to be the person people turn to to fix these problems, so why can't I fix them in myself? Are we really just animals with programmed behaviors that we think we have made sense of, but we really haven't? How do I confide in my friend without ruining our friendship?