Although I have personally not suffered from it myself it has always been, and continues to be, a large player in my life. My mother's family suffered from seemingly clinical depression and my father's from largely undiagnosed Bipolar Disorder. Although unaware of my mother's illness until I was nine, she began to slip into depressions accompanied with suicide attempts from the age of 13. She was well from age 27 until shortly after age 40. She met and married my father at age 28 and he was totally unaware of her history and she never told him. When I was nine she started to suffer with a serious bout and attempted suicide several times. I was aware of the situation through hearing my parents argue about her activities late at night. They were unaware that I knew. She attempted to murder me when I was ten and although she spent much time in hospitals in 1965 when I was eleven she once again attempted to murder me, succeeded in murdering my 10 year old sister and then committed suicide. All was accomplished by cyanide poison in orange juice. My father found us when he returned home. Twenty-two months later he too committed suicide although he made it appear to be an accidental death and I believe his own death was precipitated by the guilt and grief he suffered as he had not been depressed before in his life.

My mother's paternal uncles had suffered depression from early teens and one of them committed suicide between my parents' deaths. Her father was an alcoholic who probably suffered the same problems as his brothers, but self-medicated. Her mother was deemed at one point neurotic and although I had no contact with her after my mother passed, I did find out that she died of a probable suicide in 1972.

I did not undergo any therapy at the time as no one thought about and no one offered, as were the times I suppose. I did have treatment from a doctor in my early thirties when undergoing a break-up of a common-in-law relationship. She concluded tha t g iven my circumstances I was in very good condition mentally myself.

After my parents died I went to live with my father's sister and her husband. She was a person who was always up in the skies or down in the depths and these moods could change very rapidly. She had extreme bouts of anger as well and we did no t g et on well and the result was my attending boarding school until the time that I was able to live on my own.

Today, I am the mother of three sons and have a healthy giving marriage. I always believed in my heart that if I was strong and I did not fall to the family curse that those who came after me would be saved as well. Of course, this is not the case and it has been very hard on me to realize that two of my sons suffer from depression. We have had school problems with my youngest and he became depressed at the age of 13 much like my mother's family did. His seemed to be triggered by a number of deaths occurring in and around the family in a space of six weeks. My eldest son who is about to turn 29 was diagnosed only about a year ago, but may have suffered without detection from his teens too. He had recently returned to school and continued to work full time as well as becoming a new father about a year ago. I think that the additional stress forced him to find out what was wrong. Neither of my sons has attempted suicide that I am aware of and of course I pray they do not. I will not lose anyone else to this disease.

I now wonder about the possibilities for my grandchildren. People always tell me how surprised they are that I am normal and I suppose that I am at times surprised myself. I do have bad memories of course that will always haunt me. I remember vividly my mother's return home after numerous shock treatments. She was often drained and disoriented and laid on the sofa where my father had placed her for most of the day. I don't recall them making her any better.

The worst thing for her was the fear that the neighbours and friends would ever find out. The stigma of the times was so strong and that is what caused both she and her mother to keep her history a deep, dark secret. The rest of her family had no idea either that she had ever been ill in her youth. My mother never even revealed her past illness to her doctors in the sixties. Bringing this illness out of the realm of sin and secrecy is the best advance ever made. The new fact that it is caused by a chemical imbalance is very freeing and explains to myself why I have not suffered it.