Ok, I think it's just best to be really honest and open about this: I am depressed. Yes, I've diagnosed it myself. I've also put myself on Zoloft. You see, I'm a doctor. Well, I'm not that kind of doctor. But I know myself well enough to realize that things aren't so OK, you know? And I'm sure that if I knew how to use the whole DSM thingy, I'd find that I'm suffering from depression, accompanied by an anxiety disorder. But for me, anxiety just seems to be part of life. It's like it's part of my make-up or something. Doctors, "real" doctors, say that there's a genetic component to this sort of thing, but my mom insists that she doesn't know of anyone on either side of the family who struggles with anxiety. And this all makes me wonder, what did we call panic attacks, say, 100 years ago? I mean, I assume that panic attacks, anxiety disorder, OCD, and all the rest are not recent developments, new conditions. Or maybe they are; maybe these are just symptoms of societal post-modernism or something. Or maybe it's all just some sort of post-feminism, I-can't-do-second-or-third-wave-anymore kind of affliction. Seriously. I feel like we Gen-X women, we 30-somethings females are under all this pressure to be all things to all people. And I know that so-called third wave feminism is supposed to be about having choices. But I feel like society (yes, that nebulous, non-personal "society") is telling me that I'm supposed to be Super Mom, to have a fulfilling, stellar career, to spend six hours a week at the gym, and to cook like Julia Childs all at the same time. And I'm convinced that most of us can't do all those things. I know that I tend to rant about this too frequently. But it bothers me.

And so, I am, at the end of the day, depressed. I keep going, keep getting out of bed, keep going to work, keep paying the bills, keep answering e-mails (well, I answer most e-mails, anyway), but I'm tired, and there are days when I don't want to keep going. I want to stay in bed and pretend that it's not happening, not like this. I feel, again, like I'm in Wonderland, stuck in a life that I couldn't have imagined, a life filled with nonsense. I'm stuck in relationships where communication breaks down, and we're all finally alone.