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Bruce, Caroline

Almost Done

Okay, 3:30. I'm outta hear at 3:50. Well, I'm finished work, anyway ...
My ride doesn't get here until 4:12. I think I'll stop off at the
grocery store on my way home to get some Coke, unless I get Chuckles the
laugh-a-minuted driver I had coming home last Friday.

It has been suggested that I pursue the possibility of clinical
depression. I appreciate the concern behind that suggestion. I don't
believe what I am experiencing to be clinical depression, neither does
my doctor. I was on anti-depressants in the mid-nineties, under pressure
from Tammy. My doctor and I both decided that the only reason I was on
them was that Tammy wanted me to be on them, because she didn't want to
be the only one in the relationship who was on these things. Please
understand, Tammy was an exception in so many ways, I don't want to
imply for a second that all, or even most people who need these
medications are like that. But it was most certainly the case with
Tammy, though.She tried so hard to get me to believe I was dealing with
the same things she believed she was dealing with. Poor girl, I don't
know if she even realized that she destroyed her relationship with her
family, with me, with her friends, with my friends, with her partner
after me, and with the medical profession that tried to help her.


clinical depression

With all due respect, have you read your own writing lately? It's as if there is zero light in your life except Caroline. That is scary stuff. Have you been honest with your doctor about this? Doctors can only evaluate what you actually tell them. If you go in and plaster a smile on your face and pretend you're ok because you don't want to be on meds, of course your doctor won't think you're depressed. But you yourself wrote a few weeks ago that you think you don't know how to be happy. That screams depression.