I've had anxiety since I was 5 and had my first attack then. Depression and BPD since 13-15.
13 years ago I finally got diagnosed at 39 years old. People asked me then, and still do today, why I was going to end my life.
They never understand. It's not about your family. It's not about your job, your money, your power, your fame or anything like that.
All those things just create a facade we try to live behind. I feel terrible when people take their lives not because they are gone but because they were suffering so much when they were here it distorted their thinking to the point they thought they had no other choice. I know that makes no sense to mostly every one. That's ok. I'm glad most of you will never understand.