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Writing and Depression

So, on the phone yesterday I was sobbing to my mother that I was so sorry not to be able to manage Thanksgiving in  a traditional way, creating that perfect meal, because I was "struggling." I am struggling. I know it's hard to be a writer, challenging to be sixty, the world is in such turmoil, I broke my leg and can no longer spend hours working out, I am trying to be an effective teacher, reading essays blah, blah. I have so much, a wonderful husband, a lovely place to live, an amazing son, friends and yet there was this feeling of helplessness, despair, denial of all things good, indifference to love and the only word that occurs to me is "selfish." My 92 year old mother is so kind. She can be so kind when you need to know you are loved.

I google "long-term-sobriety and suicide" and Robin Williams' face appears, Philipp Seymor Hoffman, David Foster Wallace, men with stunning success and sobriety and talent and people that loved them and yet th…

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