Yesterday I was walking home along the river, watching people rowing against a red sunset. I felt a sense of well-being, something I haven't felt in a long time. At times like this I often wonder if this is how most people feel all the

time, and whether I'll ever be content and happy like other people seem to be. My mother has always suffered severe depression, which gives rise to the argument about whether it is nature or nurture that made me this way. Growing up, I would often find her sitting in the living room in tears, or she would simply be in bed during the day while my brother and I played. She said I used to pat her like a dog or a cat, or stroke her hair, knowing I suppose that she was unhappy but not understanding why. She has since told me that on one family holiday she wanted to throw herself off the balcony so much she had to get out of the flat, though I don't remember being aware of this at the time. She admitted when I was young she was so ill she was incapable of loving anyone or anything, and I think I knew this. By the time my brother was born she had been seeing a psychiatrist for three years, so they never seemed to have the problems in their relationship we had. I felt very jealous of their relationship and only started getting on with my mother after I left home at 18, and she finally admitted to me she had treated me badly and was sorry.

I went to see my first psychiatrist at the age of seven, for what reason I still don't know. I saw a range of counselors through my teens, but it wasn't until I saw a psychologist at the age of about 22 that he said the childhood I had was probably the reason for my troubles. He said being brought up by my mother was like having an alcoholic parent, and I played the role of an adult looking after a child when it should have been the other way around. This might have accounted for the series of disastrous relationships I have had, usually with people with drug and alcohol problems, which were draining and destructive and in which I usually played the role of carer all over again.

I am lacking in self-confidence and self-esteem, all of which was compounded by a drug rape which happened to me about six months ago. I have sometimes lived Recklessly, abusing drugs and drink, and sleeping around. My first sexual Experience when I was 15 was also coercive, and this has added to my fears of being close to someone. I have been on medication now for just under a month for about the third time in my life. I have avoided it in the past because I haven't wanted to go down the same route as my Mum, but I just got desperate not to feel

tearful and depressed all the time. A friend of mine, who also suffers from depression, said he thinks I am just a complex person who pays the price for that in unhappiness. But I don't want to accept that I will always feel this

way, and I want to realize my hopes and ambitions just like everybody else does. Changing the way you think is one of the hardest things you can do, and one of the things I find most difficult is the effect this has on my relationships. Few people understand or accept depression in people, and those with lots of confidence tend to find it difficult to relate to anyone who isn't like that. I have lost friends and partners over the years because of this, as well as losing out on opportunities I might have made a go of if I had more confidence in myself. All I hope is that one day this won't be the case, for me and for all the many others who suffer from this horrible illness.

Anon

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