This is the landing page for updates and excerpts from my book about depression. I hope you like it! Please feel free to submit comments and thoughts.

132Chapter 1 (Excerpt 1)

Think with me for a few minutes, if you will, about what you’ve done so far today. What did it take to get you to the point of sitting down (or standing up; hopefully not behind a steering wheel driving down the road somewhere), book in hand, reading about depression? You probably woke up (at least I hope so), let out the dog, cleaned up, got dressed, headed to the coffee pot for some java elixir, got into the car and went to work. Perhaps your version is slightly different, but like everyone else, your day has been a series of events.

And that’s life, isn’t it? A series of events? You do one thing, then another, and another, before stumbling (hopefully gracefully) into the grave. Some of what you do is on purpose, some things are in support of another thing. But each step happens. There are events that happen simply because you’re human. 

Chapter 1 (Excerpt 2)285546_10150277961914596_2246961_n

“One of the sites that found prominence in my little blue journal was an enormous pile of leather shoes in the National Holocaust Memorial Museum. I was 14, impressionable and obsessed with World War II era history. I was so overwhelmed by the shoes of people who were once alive, but who were murdered by a psychotic madman who thought Jews and Gypsies were somehow less human that he was. I had to sit down on a granite bench in a small chamber beyond the shoes. It was dim inside the museum on 14th Street in Washington, D.C. There was a skylight in my little chamber, and bits of dust danced in the streaks of sun shining down from it. People walked by alone, silent, nursing horror so intense that it couldn’t be shared.” 


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