The first year of treatment for my depression had done nothing. And -- saying nothing -- I had slowly given up on receiving care and dealt with things myself. It was only then, halfway through my junior year of college, that I decided to tell my doctor he had failed.
I nodded but quickly added that he didn't need to worry. "I'm not totally better, but I've resolved a lot of my issues with coming out, and things aren't as bad as they were -- even without the therapist or pills."