I Live With Unbearable Shame

I am a young woman from Latin America living and working in Sweden.
Last Thursday I had a two days trip with my job, where all the people from different locations had a meeting and a Christmas party afterwards. We have drank a lot...

I live in deep shame for my childhood and all the sexual abuse-I went thru in silence -  that went on, and not one soul cared about me! I feel such deep guilt for the most minor of things that others would not even worry about. I feel...

And also because of things that I have done wrong in my life. I know, I know, guilt is a wasted emotion but sometimes there are words I just want to say and I can't or I feel I can't and it burns a hole in my stomach and crushes me.
I...

I don't know when it began, but I've always felt like the things I do are wrong.  Everything!  I feel...Dirty?  Stupid?  Disgusting?  Undeserving of all things good...
I am ashamed of everything I do, I think...

I've carried shame my whole life. Shame that has fueled my addictions and exasperated them. My current addiction is sex and love and an uncontrollable obsession to seek exterior validation at mine and others emotional expense...

I'm beyond that sick, soothing emotional balm thinking about suicide can bring. I am starting to push beyond that into the realm of planning.
My reasons aren't situational. I have the perfect life- I have a fiance who loves me...

I was born missing a finger on my right hand. It has made me quiet and withdrawn much of the time and I battle depression most of the time. Everybody says I make too much of it. But I can't let it go! And the doctor who delivered me...

I feel mentally ill. I'm thinking about cutting down on the time I spend here, it's making me more reserved an anti-social, not to mention it's also triggering stress and flash anger. I couldn't even sleep because of some ridiculous...

I grew up with an unbearable sense of shame about myself. More like gave birth to it, nurtured it, and let it become the suffocating monster that strangles me odd hours of the day. A simple walk to school is like the march of the dead...