Given six months off work, I was sent to a well-respected clinical psychologist in the area. The appointments began with me telling him what a complete loser and piece of shit I really was. I could be honest, I had nothing left to lose. I was married to a God among mortals and here I was, a pathetic, useless, ignorant bitch. No stone was left unturned, as I described how lucky I was to have this saint in my life, while I did nothing but cause him embarrassment.
Just to clarify--I talk about myself here, not to distract attention from you, but to demonstrate how closely certain parts of your story align with my own.
But first: I feel for you so deep down in the bottom of my heart that it reaches the other side of the world.
Your words here and an uncanny set of other words throughout your piece here echo words I have written in my journals over the years...and in a suicide note I wrote in January 1976, which I saved, along with a whole lot of other ugly words I wrote about myself.
There a whole lot more...but I don't want to hog your space. I will repost the above and finish the rest of my story on my own page. Give me a while. So much is percolating...
Blessings to you, and to all who have suffered in similar ways for similar reasons...