I was a very obese kid growing up, but extremely intelligent. I didn’t get a long with my peers very well and was often considered to be an outcast. Most of high school, I didn’t have a very active social life. My mother was an OCD neat freak and made me afraid to go out in the world. Her fears became my fears and I became afraid of the world. My grandmother lived with us and she was emotionally abusive. My mother and step-father were in constant yelling matches with us and each other.

I remember most of my childhood being FAT. Yes, the dreaded “F” word that teachers let you say in school. Most of my life I was tormented by other kids. I think I’ve heard all of the fat jokes. It got to the point that I was scared to go to school. The kids were really mean. They actually HATED me because I was fat.

I have had severe depression and anxiety disorder for pretty much my whole life, but it got worse after I had a kid. It may have been because I lived in an abusive home, and had a blind woman for a mother, but either way, I am the way I am today whether it came from that or not. Like you, I have tried a variety of pills and all seemed to work for a little bit, then I lost interest in taking them, and/or felt they weren’t working.

There I was – I had everything in the world that I ever wanted. A loving partner, a happy home life, doing the things that I love with my partner. I couldn’t wait to get home from work every day. She was my best friend. But one day, I was overcome by sadness and sorrow. All I wanted to do was be alone.

In the eight years I have suffered from depression, I finally realized today that I have never put down on paper how I feel and felt; throughout it all, that’s bad! Maybe it’s because putting it on paper would give it the finality of admitting I have depression. Whatever the reasons, I decided it was about time I told my story.