So, I've never been depressed in my life. Not that it was an easy life, I had to struggle more than most...and my family, one by one died. it's just that I always had a reason to keep going, so I succeeded in things. 18 mos ago my only son was killed. At 23, almost 24, he was everything to me. My best friend & my boy that I was proud of. I taught him to read & do math before he went to kindergarten. Champion swimmer, lifeguard, etc. He was funny, very handsome & extremely smart. He was an innocent passenger in a car, driven by someone he hardly knew: he would've trusted him, like he trusted everyone. The driver decided to show how fast his Subaru could go, drove 120mph into a tree, killing them both. One thing my son hated was driving fast. Next day, my neighbor, age 22, was saying what a nice guy the driver was. Later he mentioned that he was responsible for introducing my son to him. For 14 mos, I had to see this neighbor (lived a few doors down) every day, having a good time, laughing with friends my son knew. I hated him. Every day I was obsessed with hating him. Then, last Thanksgiving, he dropped dead at age 23. Weird, can't help but wonder...did my thoughts have something to do with it? I have exrreme depression, it's unimaginable.