Matt Unless I was really ill, my sense was that I was a better therapist for my struggles. I was in therapy also, so had the luxury of running things by someone who knew me well. I learned to respect the force of depression and dismiss a great deal of the simplistic advice people have to endure. In one session a new woman came to me with breast cancer and depression. She said nothing, but eventually unbuttoned her blouse. We sat there in silence until I just said "Sometimes hell has no words" at which she began to talk a little. That never would have come out of my nondepressed mouth. Depression gifted my work and my writing although I suffered its unique challenges. Thanks for such an interesting note martha