by Anita Miller

I don’t know when it happened except that it came on slowly. I do know I was not surprised when, after I asked, “What do you think?”, my health care provider leaned against the counter, peered at me over his glasses and said, “I don’t think there’s anything physiologically wrong with you. I think you have depression.”

On the 12th day of the 11th month of this nightmare year, there it was. An answer. Over the course of the few months prior I...