The title describes everything I've experienced in the last three years perfectly.

Before I start my inevitable ramble, I'd just like to say Hi! My name is Chris, and I'm new to this forum.

I'm 21. Diagnosed with depression 2 years ago. Runs in my family, both sides. My mother is diagnosed with it and is being treated, my father more than likely is but won't admit to it. Sister diagnosed, brother undiagnosed but he has it too. Started Zoloft, stopped taking it because it made me stop caring about school and caused me to sleep >14 hours out of the day. Started taking bupropion about three months ago and it isn't a cure-all but it helps more than Zoloft did.

Where do I start?

I live a great life. Admittedly. I don't have anything to complain about except the endless anguish my own mind puts me through. Raised by generously upper-middle class parents who were nice enough to grace me with my own house for college, whom I share with my sister and all of the goodies. They give me all I need except for the spending money, that's to my own, and I respect and agree with it. Some great (few) friends I have. Teased severely as a child from the ages of 6-15 about my weight, 95% of which was from my older brother, the other 5% other people. Caused me an extreme self-esteem/body image problem.

Three years ago I got dumped by my ex-girlfriend (first and only as of now). It started the depression. I went through a phase of inexplicable self-anguish and lamentation. When I was a sophomore in college, I experimented with various drugs including psilocibin, marijuana (though I'd been smoking since 17, it got progressively out of hand), and ecstasy (twice, but they didn't do anything to me or I was too drunk to feel it).

All of this time that I've been hating myself I keep trying to tell myself that someday, somewhere, somehow, things are going to get better. I'm going to be okay with myself someday. This was three years ago, and three years ago, so I figured, was a lot of time for me to develop into myself. It never happened. So here I sit, typing away on a depression board because I have no one else to vent to. Either people have heard it too often from me or there literally is no one to talk to. Regardless, I try to take their advice to heart, but it ends up to no avail, sadly.

I still have a severe body image problem as a result of the years of teasing growing up. And I was fat, I was 140 in 4th grade and 230 in 9th grade. I slimmed to 175 by 12th grade, and I hit as low as 159 by the start of my junior year of college. I'm about 180-185 now. It's still a problem. I still always think I'm fat, and I have a little bit of a belly, admittedly, but more importantly, I realize this isn't something that is major. But I can't do anything to stop thinking about it or let it affect how I feel about myself.

That's the root of my self-esteem issues, or so I'd say. My ex leaving me caused a few, but for the most part, I'm over that now. It's caused me extreme social anxiety, characterized in my mind by overthinking during conversations, always feeling like I'm in a negative light when I meet new people, feeling like everything I say is awkward, amongst other things. Point is, I don't socialize properly because I hate myself.

And I can't stop.

I've tried so hard to reason my way through it, read so many dozens of articles about positive thinking, how to have a better body image or self-image. And I try to do what they say. I really do. But then, usually within a few days or even hours, I revert back. Whats more is that I FEEL BAD about FEELING BAD because it essentially ruined the fun college experience I expected to have. I've made very few friends. I've interacted with even fewer women. I've had two sexual partners since in these soon-to-be four years. My problem with women is also a highlight of why I hate myself. I never know what to say or do or pick up on signals, and I end up realizing what I did wrong later and commence another war on myself.

It's been too long. I'm not going to off myself because well..I'm too big of a *****. I've thought about it, but in the end I never will. I'm just too entirely sick and tired of the negative thinking. It's draining. No, it's not just draining, its debilitating. And I still feel like there is no way out, just like I did three years ago.