Man, I'm remembering the entire story is basically the story of my life, and hence pretty long. So I guess I'll just give the abbreviated version of the stuff that made me depressed.
Firstly there was the school stuff, my academic life has typically been a huge disaster, starting with being bullied like crazy when I lived in France, and continuing to me getting expelled from several elementary schools because I'd had such horrible experiences with school I simply didn't want to go anymore. Then in high school I was pretty purposefully held back because my mother felt she didn't want to overtax me, which I think was really the reverse of what I needed at the time.
The there was the issues with my mother... My mother is probably bipolar, she's definitely a big control freak, and she spent a lengthy period of my late teens being increasingly abusive. She would essentially find excuses to pick fights... A lot of it took the form of her setting me up to fail at something, then criticizing or punishing me for it. But failing that she would pretty reliably jump at any excuse to shout at me. There was essentially no good way to react to this stuff, if I'm silent, she would get angry because I don't say anything, if I say something, it would be the wrong thing to say. I couldn't ignore her, I couldn't look at her, if I stayed where I was she would tell me to go to my room, if I went to my room she would tell me I wasn't allowed to walk away from her... There was basically no way to win.
These episodes would typically go one of three ways. She would either just shout at me for a length of time then storm off and complain to my father. Or she would shove me, break things, disconnect the power, a variety of other stuff. The third only happened a handful of times, and that was when I fought back, I never hit her, but I did wrestle her out of the room a couple of times. She usually responded to this by calling the police, the police would come over and tell me that this behaviours was going to get me arrested and thrown in jail. I could possibly have made a point that actually she's the one attacking me, but frankly I've never been good at standing up and making that kind of argument to anyone, besides, up until that point nobody (at least, nobody I really believed) had ever really told me that this was unacceptable behaviour for a parents. It sounds nuts, but I genuinely believed this stuff was because I was a horrible person.
There was a whole thing where she got me on anger management for this stuff. And after the anger management therapist spend a few months trying to address the cause of my anger issues, she started to realise that maybe this was an issue of parental abuse. My mother flipped out, accused me of lying, and I never went back for therapy until much later. I was also put on a variety of different medications, one of which probably kicked off my depression in earnest, the side effects were pretty bad, it made me sleepy all the time and I started having fainting spells. I tried to get my mother to let me stop taking it, but she refused so I went behind her back and started flushing it... this went fine for a couple of weeks until she found out about it, at which point she literally tried to force the pills down my throat, and walked off shouting "You've been doing so much better these past few weeks!"
Needless to say I wound up very suicidal.
Then there was this whole issue involving a love interest and some friends... I'd honestly never had friends before, at least not ones I'd ever spoken with or hung out with outside of high school, but I found myself doing it in my final year. It was mostly these three people including this person I had a huge crush on. There's a really long, dumb, drama story here but the gist of it is that I wound up confessing my feelings, it led to an awkward situation, then I confessed to feeling suicidal and having plans to kill myself after graduation, which led to an even more awkward situation. I had actually spent quite a while trying to get these people to hang out with me more, and them being rather reluctant. Then after the suicidality confession they were suddenly very eager to have more to do with me.
This really didn't end well, I was trying to put some distance between myself and them, and yet the more I did that the more they tried to cling on, so I sort of wound up trying to scare them off by basically being a huge jerk and acting a bit like a psychopath... just a bit. It worked, and they wound up all deciding they didn't want anything to do with me again...
There's really a hell of a lot more to that, but it's honestly an essay's worth of drama I don't feel like going through again.
I wound up getting arrested when I asked my mother if I could see a psychiatrist, and she lectured me about how she wasn't going to let me tell lies, and I just pushed her over and shouted "I know" at the top of my voice, she went off and phoned the police and told them I had thrown her to the floor and beaten her, I remember hearing her describe the number of fictional blows I had hit her with... Anyway, police came in, pointed gun, arrested me, my mother's story began to change over time until she just told the truth of the matter. The judge agreed to let me go with misdemeanor disorderly conduct, and she only kept those charges because she wanted to make sure I was on probation and getting psychiatric help (she'd found out about me being suicidal)... So the end result of this argument about me wanting to take therapy, was me being arrested and forced to take therapy.
Then there was a lengthy few years where nothing really improved, took a wide variety of medications, tried to fix relations with my old friends, they've not exactly been receptive to the idea, and honestly, sometimes I'm really frigging pissed on account of some of the shenanigans they pulled (I've glossed over them, but they were there), other times I really can't blame them.
Things really started to improve when I stopped taking medication, and my mother started taking anti-depressants. I never actually realised how incredibly profound the effect of her behaviour was until it stopped, after that I started to come to terms with the abuse... and then something like six months down the line, here I am.
Right now I feel... fragile. I'm scared the situation I'm in is just one good push away from falling apart again. I don't know where I'm going or what I'm doing, and I'm honestly not that optimistic about the future...