Well I am 51 and I wouldn't say life is rosier. I am single, don't have any friends or romantic prospects and don't really want any, work at a job I don't really like, and am watching my only friends (my parents) go to hell due to failing health. On the plus side, I have a new car, my modest house is paid off, and I am 5 years from minimum retirement.
I developed hyperhydrosis (excessive sweating) around 22 years of age just in time to join the stress of working towards a bachelor's degree in engineering, and that's when my avoidance of all things social started. I turned to the bottle to combat my anxiety, but that only led to going to jail for DUI, and graduating with a less than respectful GPA. I did land a job but the stress of it gave me another malady; irritable bowel syndrome. All I cared about was where is the next beer and where is the bathroom. During all of this my parents were like, "Oh you have it made, you should have grown up in the depression".
At 30, I really started drinking when my fiancee left me because she got tired of all the excuses of why we don't go out, was probably less than impressed with my sexual prowess and she found a widow with more money. I was never really good with women because having a minscule penis I never had any confidence.
At 35, due to base closings I got a new job in IT. I decided to get quit drinking and get ETS surgery for hyperhydrosis. The doctor said you won't sweat from the chest up anymore. He was right for about six weeks then I started sweating profusely everywhere below my waist. I am constantly wet on my back, legs, seat of my pants to this day. Around this time I started taking anti-depressant/anxiety meds prescribed from a general practitioner to alleviate stress. The irritable bowel syndrome did improve. The pills made me lethargic, non orgasmic, and gave me an overall attitude of I don't give a **** anymore. I don't think I am as suicidal as I was but I sure don't feel like doing much.
Around 40 I decided to go see a psychiatrist because I had thoughts of suicide. It was around this time my father almost died do to a stroke during a knee replacement operation. The really sad part is that my mom wanted him to die so she wouldn't be burdened with him. It was about this time that I decided I no longer trusted medical professionals nor women.