Reminds me, of the time, 6 years ago, going through an emotional crisis, yet, in my neurologist's office, tears in my eyes..."Can You Fix Me?"
My then husband, sitting next to me, my desire to do everything, please everyone, place everyone above myself. 'Doctor, Can you Fix me?'

The life, I deserved to have, doesn't involve changing the past, but it involves, finding a certain peaceful acceptance, of what was, what will never be, and a contentment for the life that I have.

My past, is a nightmare, on some levels. All I can do, is ensure that my own children, will not have to experience the things, that I did. So far, not so bad.

Can he fix me? No. Can any of my doctors, 'fix' me? No. Even my therapists, can only give me a guiding hand.

I often, look, at my pdoc, with a questioning look, over 'how's joy?' or something along those lines. The 'joy' feeling, is it any less? What if the baseline for joy, is low to begin with?

Looking around you, do you feel, that other's don't deal with MH? Demographically speaking, I live in an affluent area. Yet, I know, depression, etc, does not discriminate. It's here, it's in poorer communities, it's in the country clubs, it's everywhere.

I take a good listen, to word choice. You'd be amazed, at the little clues, someone's words. It helps, to know, none of us, are truly alone with our struggles.

Glad you had a good 'day' off, so to speak. I, too, am one to drive around, to just 'be', figure things out, in a way.