This
Skepchick article makes me, in a quite ironic way, very sad. In my late teens/early twenties, my mother was diagnosed with a mood disorder, and I discovered years later that I suffered from one, as well. Over time, it's become clear that mom and I aren't the only ones in the family who could (or do, in my case) benefit from happy pills. But considering the (relatively) strong genetic factor, I can only wish we'd caught it earlier. I would probably had a much less troublesome childhood, and I know the teenage years would have been less angsty. Well, probably.
Considering all this, and a few skeletons in Aradia's closet to boot, we're going to have to watch our (frustratingly hypothetical) children likes the proverbial hawk.
Ah, well, it's probably for the best. They'd probably try to blow something up otherwise.
Labels: Aradia, depression, ramble
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