Dear Francesca,

For the third time, I try to begin a letter to you. I strike out the words I began with; they were stilted and stagnant. My mind feels paralyzed. My thoughts do not flow easily into sentences. When I try to put together a thought on the page, it becomes garbled.

I spent a lot of the day looking at web pages about depression. I have just been back online since Friday, so it's as if I have a new toy to play with. Only the new toy isn't quite as shiny, as bright. It is mostly just the best way to while away time. Why must I yearn for the hours to go by in this way. especially in the morning or early afternoon? Getting motivated is so difficult.

For some time now, I had thought I would try to work as a freelance writer or researcher from home at my computer. Saturday I scouted around the internet for opportunites. I felt so overwhelmed at both the mass of things out there yet how difficult it would be to compete against hundreds of other writers looking at the same market. I don't feel like competing at all, selling my ideas, and such. It would take so much effort, and could I handle the rejection right now? I don't know. I know that if I don't try I'll never know, but how do I get myself going when I just feel like going back to bed?

Recently I wrote another friend that I was doing better mentally. I guess that's partly true, or I was feeling pretty good when I wrote it. Not every moment is bad, and the more frightening things have passed -- the frequent sense of impending doom for no reason, the visual illusions and such. But I still feel dulled, depressed. I wish I knew the right medicines that would keep me sane yet keep me whole.

Yours,
Hannah Iona