That's a lot to swallow, but i'll give it a shot.

I understand to a point where you're coming from. My parents are in the process of finishing up their divorce, and the last few years have been an absolute nightmare. Him sober maybe a combined 2 days of the year, her locking herself away in her room and drinking herself and smoking herself right to death along with him. The family limping along from paycheck to paycheck, trying to make ends meet with 1 adult in school and the other putting the bottle down just long enough to get a couple days of work in a week.

They both love me very much, more than just about anything else, and I believe them. But living with them furthered my own problems much more than anything else could have.

I turned 20, and moved out with my boyfriend at the time. Because I realized that their problems can't be my problems. They'll sink or swim, and they'll do it together or apart, but I can't keep being involved in it. And even now, I don't know any of the details of their separation. I don't know who's asking for what, or when the court dates are, or any of that. Because it's not my problem.

I love my parents, I really do, but because of my environment I grew up fast. I had to. And I had to make an adult decision, to put my needs above theirs, and to love and support them from afar so that I could work on my own life.

Being on my own took a lot of stress off of me. More financial stress, sure, but I've always been happy with just enough money to pay the bills and a small bit of extra on the side. It remains to this day the best decision I've ever made. Both for them, and for me. And shortly after I left, my mom announced that she was moving out and filing. And it honestly made me happy. I've never seen them as happy together as they now are apart.

So far as life not being worth it, I feel you there 110%. All the way. As far as I could see, life consisted of the world shitting on you all the time, while you got to watch everyone else be happy. No matter what I did, no matter how many decent days (because there were NEVER good days, just ones where the urge to die wasn't quite so overwhelming) I had, there were fist fulls of bad ones waiting around the corner. And my predominant thought on waking most of the time was "this can't possibly be worth it".

Since my boyfriend convinced me to try antidepressants, I've since had good days. And great days. And while I'm not entirely on the band wagon yet, I can say this - I don't know if slogging through all the bad days is worth the good ones. In fact, I'm sure its not.

But that's why people keep going. Because those good days? They're really good. They're contentment, they're curling up under a blanket with a good book and being happy to be alive, because if you were dead you would never be so comfortable, with dinner in the oven, and a cat curled up on your lap. And that's why people keep on. With the hope that maybe they can get to have more of those good days.

I don't know if I've helped. But I hope I have. At the very least, you aren't alone.

Feel free to shoot me a pm any time Sending good thoughts your way.