I've suffered from depression since I was about ten years old; I've been diagnosed as BPD as well. I haven't been actively suicidal for many years, but often the accompanying pain is still there and I wonder whether-- having finally chosen to live-- the quality of my life matters. I'm basically an optimist but I can slide quickly into black moods. I'm a single mom, an atheist and a writer. I had a career but it fell prey to my depression, and now I just get by. My loves are music, science, words, chocolate, the color blue, and clever, compassionate people, especially my ten-year-old son.