RE: What lead me to finally stop trying to kill myself and say "Eh, fuck it".
Although you may not see yourself as very far out of the pit of depression, recognizing that the people around you would be devastated by your death is great progress in my book. When I was deeply depressed, I always assumed people around me would be better off if I were dead.
Of course, having a friend die taught you what it feels like to be left, and your friend's death was probably a pivotal event for you. That you could hear your cat meowing and think of your cat while you were in that terrible place--that's progress.
We change when the pain of staying the same is greater than the fear of change. For you, 'the same' is using cutting, alcohol, recklessness, and suicide attempts to escape the pain of being abused and neglected as a child. Change would be seeking help and not stopping until you find effective help, someone who can walk with you through that dark place while keeping one foot firmly in the present.
For me, finding a counselor who could do that as well as being in a group talking to other people who had been sexually abused as children made the crucial difference.
Thank you for the thoughtful response and you are right I suppose. When I was at my worst I definitely didn't think anyone would care if I died, or even thought they may be relieved. I know that isn't true now.
Losing my best friend was the most pivotal moment of my entire life thus far and it's strange knowing that I would be much worse off were she still alive. We would be enabling one another with binge drinking. I would be not creating art constantly, not writing, not working through my past, and living with abusive people.
Losing her changed everything and though the pain is severe I am honestly dedicated to living fully now, or at least trying to get to a place where I can.
I am definitely going to look for a therapist and am open to meds. I will eventually get my MN id and get medicate. I need to get on that but it's a plan and I am open to trying different people and different meds until I find something that works.
I am also getting a lot better just by writing a lot and creating art and analyzing myself and the reasons I act in certain ways.
That must be painful to recognize how much you and your friend enabled each other. In a way, her death freed you to live.
A lot of the meds suck but sometimes they are part of what's needed, especially if it takes four hours to get out of bed otherwise. If you can run, you might put that into the mix if you aren't doing it already. During a certain period, I would cry as I ran, but it really helped.