I am a junior in high school, and I've been diagnosed with ADD, anxiety, and depression. Because I'm too chicken to talk about it with any of my friends, I thought that maybe letting it all out right here and now might make me feel a little better. I hope some of you read my story

I am ranked as the best high school clarinetist in my state. And it's not a small state either. But I haven't been able to pick it up and play it in the last five weeks, because for one simple reason- I think I suck. My ears interpret that sound I produce on my clarinet into complete un-reality. People sometimes tell me that I am the best clarinetist in the state. My brain is telling me that I'm not. A lot of this misinterpretation is being created from my surroundings. My high school hates music. All they ****** care about is sports. Nobody, I mean nobody knows that I was ranked first clarinetist in the state. But they all seem to know that the new jock doofus got into the regional basketball team. All my friends get more credit than me, too. This constant nonsense about who won this game, who made that goal, it's making me insane. I've gotten so angry about my school's screwed up system that I've turned all the anger against me, and my clarinet playing. I worked hard at making that spot. Before this year, I was practicing three hours a day. And now I can't even pick it up.
I used to get good grades, too. I've had to drop almost all my classes, and now it's determined that I'm gonna have to take an extra year of school.

My friend had depression as well, but she ended up at a psych hospital. All I can constantly think about is doing harm to myself, and trying to make everybody feel better. I want to make myself feel better, but I truly can't. I can't focus, I can't be calm, and I can't be happy.

Several doctors have put me on several medications, but all of them give me worse side effects. I feel like a lab rat. The worst part is, Lorazepam really helped me, but then I started getting slightly addicted to it. I wanted it more and more, because it seemed like the only thing that could help. I never overdosed, but my doctor took me off it. Sometimes, when I'm about to do harm to myself or I'm having a major panic attack, my mother will let me sneak one in. If not for breaking those rules, I may have cut myself already. I'm trying so hard not to.

My parents have been a big help, but my father is also an alcoholic, and it really doesn't help. He can say some nasty things to me sometimes when he's under the influence.
My mother also has depression and anxiety, so sometimes she's unavailable and I'm on my own.

All I need is a little reassurance, and help.