These days I feel as if I am merely a head with two eyes and two legs. At least I have two eyes and two legs, right? I do not think it possible to feel any more numb, yet anxious. Some days I wonder what is real--people I meet, events, my job, even my family.

I understand that since I have decided to stop ignoring my depression that it will be a rough go for awhile, not only for me but also for those around me. I told Doug last night that I do not expect him to "hang" while I go through treatment and that I do not blame him for wanting to "bail" on me. I also told him not to take anything I say or do (or don't do) personally. I have not wanted to be touched by anyone or anything, lately, and that is really hard for him, because he does not understand depression. I have to give him credit for beginning to try, at least, however I wish I could disappear, get better, then return without having affected or hurting anyone.

Acknowledging this has been the hardest thing I have ever had to do. I think that is why I put it off for twenty years. There is still such a stigma attached to depression and I hope to end that, someday.

My first meeting with my therapist went well, if you can call it that. I cried a lot, but I felt very comfortable talking with her, and I suppose that's the important thing, right?

I have been to one psychiatrist two times during my senior year in high school. She put me on good 'ole Prozac and when I met with her a second time I told her I was cured and that I did not need to come back. The truth is I wasn't cured, but I could not stand the others in the waiting room, with their nervous ticks and all.

I also went to the school counselor off and on throughout my grammar, junior high, and high school years. I started seeing the school counselor in fifth grade to deal with stress-related issues. The truth is, I did not want to go to school, because I was tired of being picked on by some of the other girls. I was told on a daily basis how fat and ugly I was.

In junior high I be-friended a girl who was the alpha-female, if you can call it that. She helped me out by reminding me on a daily basis what a bitch I was. She also helped me out by always coming to the school counselor's office with me, maybe so I could not talk about her to the counselor behind her back?

High school was a pretty happy time for the most part, thanks to my alpha-female friend dumping me when I started going out with this guy during my freshman year. My senior year was terrible, on the other hand, and one day, after I missed almost a week of school, I had a teacher walk me down to the counselor's office. The counselor let me have a good cry, advised me to seek outside help, and sent me on my way. I never went back to that particular class, or any other classes for that matter after that incident, except for the one I had to go to in order to graduate.

That all took place from 1988-1996. Here we are in 2006, and I finally have a psychologist and a psychiatrist. I have finally been officially diagnosed as having severe anxiety and I was one point shy of being diagnosed with severe depression, so I have moderate to severe depression. Guess what? My folks have no idea what is going on. I am too scared of the repercussions from them, to be quite honest, so I just keep quiet in front of them, It really hurts to be this way, but it is better than being put down, again, later in life for my inherited flaws.