It's ten o'clock and I write this from my dining table because I'm awake and wanted to talk about what happened when the medication I took stopped working, and the symptoms came back. The hardest part has been letting go. I'm the kind of person who owns up to her role in whether or not something worked out. Now I have to accept that it wasn't under my control. That should comfort me, but I have a lingering doubt.
At first, I felt I was responsible for the medication failure, and now I see I...
