Asperger's Syndrome with co-morbid Social Anxiety Disorder and Depression.
I'm going to take a different tack to other people in this thread, and instead of finding fault with the NHS(which does need desperate reform and extra funding when it comes to mental health) or psychiatrics in general(which do have problems with corruption/over medication in some cases), and rag on the education system.
At Primary I was generally withdrawn, I had problems understanding other people's behaviour, my threat>response wetware was waaaay out of whack resulting in situations which an outside observer would consider only mildly confrontational turning to violence, and I would become overly-enthused to the point of mania when discussing topics which I found interesting. The result of this behaviour was not a recommendation to see a mental health professional, instead I was labelled as a "problem child", switched from class to class, berated by teaching staff, and on one occasion locked outside the school by the head teacher in the pissing rain, with only a single shoe and no socks, for two hours after an incident where I had sworn and threatened violence against another student who had made a habit of stealing my clothing during gym class(in this case, the eponymous socks and shoe). I was only allowed to remain at the school because of one excellent teacher who fought my corner on the basis of my consistently high academic results.
Secondary school was a different but still almost entirely unpleasant experience. By that point, I had learned that even momentary extroversion, especially if the topic related to my interests, would result in negative feedback from peers, and so became more withdrawn. The few people I was able to form connections with through common interest were driven away when my year's set of bullying morons took an interest. Staff were...uninterested at best, in some cases they were openly hostile. I had an unfortunate compulsion to correct errors, and as it turns out, teachers would rather students didn't point out their failings. My maths teacher in particular came to despise me for that. Things eventually came to a head when one of the staff had to drive me home each night for a week, as I had upset the wrong people, and these people had decided an appropriate response would be to attempt to find me on my walk home and stab me. I stopped attending, which simply resulted in my being labelled as a truant as well as a "disruptive influence".
I spent the rest of my teens bumbling around various colleges, achieving academically but failing courses due to attendance issues as my anxiety around other people became more and more acute. It wasn't until my early twenties when I took my first "serious" job, in retail management, and that seemed to be going quite well; I had my anxiety under some sort of control, although being around people all day meant that, by the time I arrived home in the evening, the strain of maintaining a façade of normality often reduced me to a nervous wreck.
Alas, I was again betrayed by my own propensity to point out others' mistakes, and a series of disagreements with my line manager over her somewhat lax interpretation of company rules, and suspicions which I mistakenly voiced to her that her friend who worked under us was responsible for a rash of mysteriously missing product, resulted in my being carefully shuffled into the dole queue.
At that point, I had a pretty comprehensive breakdown, lost my flat along with the job, and bizarrely, finally got the help I needed. By moving back in with my parents, I switched to a new GP practice, one in which the doctors had some proper experience with mental health issues. I was referred up the line and saw the head of clinical psychiatry and her autism specialists at the local mental health institution within a couple of months, and received my diagnosis. Although I still struggle to leave the house due to the anxiety, I have a support worker through a local NHS-funded autism charity, I see a cognitive behavioural therapist every couple of weeks at my GP, and my family are slowly beginning to comprehend that I'm not just a hopeless, lazy emotional wreck. I'm back in education through the Open University, who use a web-based distance-learning system which is ideal for people like myself, and hope to be starting my PHD soon.
In short; being mentally ill is fucking terrible, especially if you don't know what the problem is, but if you push the issue(or someone pushes it for you) until you get the appropriate diagnosis, research the available treatments and insist on the ones you feel will help you most, and get the proper support, things can improve fairly significantly.