What has been really on my mind today is the plight of a woman was perched on the Ship Channel Bridge in Seattle, contemplating suicide. Her misfortune was to do so during rush hour. Apparently, some drivers didn't seem to care about a human life, only that their time was being wasted, so they taunted her, telling her to jump. The cable news networks have picked up on this story, and it was the topic of Talkback Live on CNN today. Apparently, in today's world, it is easy to find someone willing to say things on TV, via satellite, that make them look like total and complete assholes. I watched with outrage as a man said that suicide was another form of natural selection, and depressed people don't deserve to live. I'm sorry, but I'll have to take that issue personally. You see, I'm a person who has suffered severe depression. I've had it since I was a little boy. If not for my loving family, I might not be here now. They have rescued me several times, not from suicide attempts (Thank GOODNESS), but from severe, debilitating depression. Imagine feeling that if you left your house, the whole world would just defeat you anyway, so why bother? I literally had to be moved out of an apartment I lived in because the power got turned off. I had the money to pay it, but I couldn't get out of the house to do it. I barely walked my dog or ate. I'm not a stupid, moody human being. I just don't make enough seratonion in my brain to keep my mood elevated. A combination of drugs and therapy have made me whole again. I'm actually happier and better balanced than I've been since high school. So you can imagine what I was thinking when I heard the "natural selection" comment. I was livid. Then I was indignant. Then I was sad. Indeed, after sorting through my emotions (something that cognitive therapy has taught me to do) I decided that I was mostly sad because there are lots of folks out there who hurt everyday. It is beyond comprehension the sheer number of people who sufer from chronic depression. I'm lucky: my family has the resources to help me get better. Therapy (at 120 bucks an hour, four times a month) isn't cheap, nor are the $150 worth of "head meds" that I take each month. As far as I'm concerned, I can't afford NOT to take them, but what about those less fourtunate than myself? What happens to them? I know what happens, because I've seen it. We've ALL seen the old man who sits on the street, unwashed, looking sad. We've seen the drunks in the bar, the drugged-out prostitute on the street. We've seen these people and we've even laughed at them, but their pain is not funny. It strikes me that us laughing at a drunk is just as bad as the people taunting that poor woman to jump. It's easy to kill a soul that's almost dead. It's much more difficult to smile, and tell someone hello. I'm going to try to make a point to do the more difficult thing now. As the old saying goes: There, but for the grace of God, go I. The woman in Seattle? She jumped. She's one of the few folks that has jumped off of that bridge and lived. She's in bad shape, but the papers say she's going to be fine. The hospital is overwhelmed with the gifts and sentiments that have flowed from the public. I wish her the best.