[Trilby]

At age 13 I was diagnosed with depression and put on Elavil (an old drug--but it was 1977 and pretty much IT) but NO ONE told me that it would take 4-6 weeks to make me feel better so I stopped taking it (it made me tired)--and my parents never followed up. Mom took me to a gastroenterologist for my unexplained stomach pain and HE diagnosed me (correctly). I never went back, I never saw a psych and I never got any better. In 1989 I saw a therapist who knew, within 60 seconds of meeting me, that I was depressed. It had never occurred to me that I was--I just thought life sucked. She referred me to a doc who put me on prozac and it changed my life. I've gone off prozac many times---and it's never been a good idea. IMHO depression and anxiety (not to mention addictions) are all part of familial make up.

I've often wondered why the depressed/addicted trait has survived for so long and I've come to the conclusion that a lot of depressed/addicted people are just really attractive in some way to normal people.