"I think everyone knows what my latest bout with depression is about--the whole ex-boyfriend and diabetes situation. I was a pretty happy kid too and had an easy life till around my high school years, when we moved to Florida. My dad, up till then, had been a very successful banker, but suddenly changed fields to work in the computer business. I didn't know why until later. In our old hometown, he was being charged with embezzlement and other illegal activities with the bank he'd been president of (which later failed under the new management). He was innocent, but when he decided to get out of the banking field, the investor whom he'd worked with to start the bank was furious, and tried to frame him for years. He ended up out of a job, with thousands and thousands of dollars in attorney bills, and was finally cleared, but our lives were unalterably changed. My parents' credit was ruined, my mother had to get a job, my dad had to work two jobs, I worked three jobs as well as going to school, and things were incredibly tense.

My p's (parents) were determined that I go to college, and I got scholarships and financial aid to go to the University of Denver. But they raised the tuition and not my financial aid--now that I work there I've learned that the university almost closed because of financial problems at that time--and I also left because of things that happened to me there. I went out on a date with this guy from a fraternity, ended up being raped that night by him and ended up in an abusive relationship with him. I started planning to leave DU even before the tuition news came, just to get away from him. When I finally got up the guts to break up with him, he called me to break up with me, and I made the mistake of telling him I'd been thinking of the same thing. He came over later and beat the hell out of me. I only heard from him a few times after that, but I've never seen him again.

After that, when I moved back home, I was suicidal and was drinking and smoking pot pretty heavily with my friends, and went to a therapist for a little while. My p's didn't know what had happened to me, but after they found out I'd gone to an expensive therapist on my own, they found one on a sliding scale for me. That was ok till this therapist told my p's (I was 19 at the time) that I wanted to kill myself. I think that breaks the confidentiality rules. Maybe I should have sued her. But I never went back. I did finally get over all that on my own, but it probably took a lot longer.

Off-and-on problems I've had with drinking. My grandpa was an alcoholic so I'm very afraid of becoming addicted to that. I've noticed myself drinking a lot more since this latest depression fight, so I really try to be careful about it. So far, I can quit whenever I feel that it's becoming a problem, but I'm really afraid of getting to a point where I don't care or don't realize it's a problem. "

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