I hear ya. Sounds familiar. I've been nursing (hiding, mostly) suicidal depression for 46 years. Does it get better or easier? Well, the older I get (read: the closer I get to a possible natural death), the more I think about death: the more I think 'What's the point?'. I am loved by my teenage children. I am loved by my students and (some) colleagues. I find in relationships, partners start sensing the darkness in me, and eventually (or just quickly) leave.
One thing that has helped me... I'm overwhelmed by tears mostly every day and have been for some years now. I had a teenager hospitalised with psychosis and another alienated by depression in the last year or so... At some stage in my own blubbering fits of 'Why is this happening to me!? This can't go on!...' I had to stop intellectually judging myself as wrong... the crying fits are uncomfortable, yes, debilitating, yes, and exhausting... but they are not bad... When I finally convinced myself that: They are a gift, and I am fortunate to be a man in contact with his emotions... things began to shift a bit... After 46 years I am finally committed to no longer being slave to depression and anxiety (easier said than done, I know)... so why am I here, sharing this? Some days are easier than others...
Today... just getting through the day... wondering what impetus I can muster to justify my continued existence on the planet... until tomorrow... back at work... I'm much happier there at work. Loved and respected.Today just looking for ways to deal with what I'm going through...