Even therapies send me the message I'm responsible for my own condition

(I think this is going to be a long post)

I don't know when this started, so I'll just talk about when it started to get worse. I stopped going to class early in my first year of college. I thought I had found an idea of career but it didn't last (it never does. I start to find something interesting, say "yeah, that's what I want to do!" Then I have to study boring stuff for years and I'm not interested enough to believe it's worth it). This is the year where it actually started. Doing nothing all day, only see friends. Until somehow I managed to do something some of them didn't like and I spend most of my time alone with my addiction except to see very fex friends once in a while. I tried another year of college, went to some classes on the first par of the year. Enough to pass the first exams. But I lost whatever energy I had and stopped going. I didn't make any friends (never been good at it).

I still didn't know what to to with my life and decided to try college one more year but I it seemed pointless. At the time I had a therapist, I stopped seeing her after I woke up too late for our appointment. Most of the time I felt without energy or purpose, overwhelmed by the thought of normal things like washing dishes, buying food, etc. I don't have enough energy to get up and get out every day, and going to buy cigarettes 5 minutes away from where I live could actually be seen as sport for me.

At some point I tried to do more and more stuff, and then tried to get a social life again. This is when my first (and only) long relationship began. I warned him about my "depression" (still don't have a diagnosis) but the first month I was different. I met people (didn't make friends), went out more started some paid work as volunteer in an association. At some point I met a psychiatrist who scared me away from any help of that kind for a long time. When I talked about my anxiety, and how awfully vulnerable I felt about going to class he basically said I had to make an effort. Work began to be a hostile place when I was given responsibilities I couldn't handle and some coworkers started to openly show their despise while I felt trapped I my relationship because my opinion and need weren't a priority and I barely spoke up (when I found how to do it). The funny thing is I'm know to be a girl with temper and people believe I always speak my mind. When both the job and the relationship ended I had nothing left, I didn't find the strengh to go back to school. I didn't even thought about another job that would only be for money since it ended up so badly.

This is when the worst year I had started. I had nothing left, still lived in that insanely small flat my mother pays for. People think I should be grateful somehow when I still hate her for everything she did to me. I started to push people away and saw no one for month until my first suicide attempt. They ket me at the hospital against my will for 3 weeks and the doctors I met only cared that I tried to quit on my addiction and try to find a job. They said whatever sickness I have is not serious enough to keep me from working, that there is no serious handicap in my abilities related to self-care and social skills. When I left the hospital it didn't last for long, had to go back live at my mother's and try to find another hospital fit for me. I stayed there two weeks, doctors talked to the patients 10 minutes a day, when they did. I went back to my place and relapsed in the addiction. A few weeks later my mother threatened to leave me with no place to live and I attempted suicide again.

I stayed in the hospital for 3 other weeks, had pills to take and the made me stupid. I thought I would be able to handle anything that could go wrong when I was on them. Obviously I wasn't. The doctors and social workers kept saying I wasn't sick enough to be unable to work. For the first time a doctor told my mother my problem was our relationship when I was there. I went back home, met a guy, started a relationship that ended up with lots of lying and cheating shortly after it began.

Relapse. But I kept going to therapy with a new doctor and thought it would start getting somewhere. Except in 4 month it only feels like I go to the appointment, talk about my life and go back home. But nothing changes. I tried to talk to her about that and she said it wasn't her place to tell me what to do, asked what I was doing in order to change things. Yeah, nothing. Because it never works. It never worked. No matter what I do I still end up where I started. That same doctor told me I have no internal structure and I have to build myself up. I have no idea how to do that. She didn't give me any clue, like she's expecting me to find it on my own. She told me it's the same for everyone with depression I am the one supposed to find out what to do. I said I wanted help and she answered she didn't think I wanted her to help (not the first time I hear that)

I mean is that for real?

The way it feels is everyone thinks I'm just a lazy addict who justs sits around doing nothing all day long by choice who keeps saying no to ideas like "you should do some sport/ draw/write something" (because it doesn't make me feel any better) because she doesn't actually want to get better. I believe I tried and I'm just exhausted of it because no one backs me up.

But hey, maybe they're right. I brought this upon myself somehow and I want it to keep going.