As for me, I had always
thought myself tough,
one of the people who could survive
if I'd been sent to a concentration camp.
In 1991, I had a series of losses.
My mother died,
a relationship I'd been in ended,
I moved back to the United States
from some years abroad,
and I got through all of those
experiences intact.
But in 1994, three years later,
I found myself losing interest
in almost everything.
I didn't want to do any of the things
I had previously wanted to do,
and I didn't know why.
The opposite of depression
is not happiness, but vitality.
And it was vitality
that seemed to seep away
from me in that moment.
Everything there was to do
seemed like too much work.
I would come home
and I would see the red light
flashing on my answering machine,
and instead of being thrilled
to hear from my friends,
I would think,
"What a lot of people that is
to have to call back."