As for the question: I don't feel humiliated per-say because a significant part of the reason why everything got as bad as it is, is because of external circumstances that were beyond my control. I have no problem admitting where I've fucked up or could have done something better (and I do it often – shit, I can somehow manage to blame myself for a car accident on the other side of the city), but for the most part I really do feel like I did my part in trying to better my life and get my shit together, even as it became glaringly clear that there were no realistic solutions left.
As difficult as it was, I usually asked for help when I needed it, and I was either brushed off, ignored, accused of god knows what, or outright blamed, and if someone reads my note and then asks, "Why didn't she just ask for help?" after I'm gone, I will rattle in my urn. I mean, I definitely feel pathetic that I haven't "accomplished" very much in this sorry existence, but I also can reflect on it and confidently say that that has had nothing to do with a lack of motivation or trying. I did the best I could with what I had to work with, between the constant physical and psychological turmoil that wasn't being taken seriously or properly treated by the appropriate professionals who could have helped, and again, the external circumstances that were far more powerful than I could ever be.
If I had gotten the proper help and validation that I'd needed within a reasonable amount of time that would have actually made a difference, maybe things would have been a little better. I definitely didn't win the genetic lottery, either, and I'm sure I would have had issues either way (including the chronic illness that plagues my body, but of course it wasn't taken seriously because I have a history of anxiety, depression and severe trauma), but I imagine that I still probably would have been able to have somewhat of a life; maybe I would have been able to study or at the very least volunteer or do SOMETHING. I probably would have been able to take myself and how I was feeling a little more seriously (as opposed to gaslighting myself in order to cope with these circumstances and make it a little less painful that my efforts seemed to continuously be in vain), I probably wouldn't be AS physically/psychologically fucked up beyond repair, and I probably would have had at least some semblance of stability in navigating myself and this world if my sense of self hadn't been completely shattered before it ever really developed in the first place.
I know that life isn't fair, and that it's not "supposed" to be. I don't pity myself, I own up to my mistakes and I'm fully aware that I'm not just this poor, perfect soul in a world where everyone else except me is the problem, but when it comes down to it, it didn't need to get this bad. Hindsight is 20/20, but you'd think it'd be a no-brainer to do your best to try to help a child who tells you that they're being messed around with instead of blaming it on them, or (as a healthcare professional) to actually try to look into a patient's complaints and listen to them instead of telling them to (literally) "take a walk".