When did depression become a crime? At what point did the world lose patience with any and all people who made the mistake of admitting they weren’t happy at the moment?

I have been battling depression periodically through much of my life. The first time I had a major bout, I was only about 11 years old. It was written off as adolescence, and I was allowed to muddle through it until I got over it. The second time, I was a junior in high school. As an honors student who was very involved in multiple extracurricular activities, I was assumed to be under too much stress. My parents and friends encouraged me to drop a couple of my more difficult classes and lighten my activity schedule. I did, and I got over it. The third time, I was in college, struggling to figure out what I was going to do with the rest of my life and heartbroken over a guy. This bout was more serious, and I was put into therapy and given antidepressants. Neither was terribly helpful; I got much better when I got out of town and went to work at Disney World for the summer, though.

Now I’m 35, and I’ve been battling another round of depression for almost two years. In the fifteen years that have passed since my last episode, though, a remarkable shift has taken place. No one has considered that maybe my lifestyle or activities could problems. No one has made any helpful suggestions. No one has really given my situation any thought whatsoever because they no longer feel the need to be burdened by such unpleasantness. I tell people I’m depressed, and everyone comes back with one word: DRUGS.

These days, you tell someone you’re depressed, and they immediately reply, “Have you tried Prozac/Zoloft/Lexapro/insert prescription here? I’ve been on it for ages! It’s great!”

My doctor put me on Lexapro. My husband says it makes me behave better. I admit it seems to improve my outward symptoms. But I still don’t sleep. I still wake up wondering how in the world I’m going to make it through the day. I still feel my heart start racing at the thought of all the things I have to do. I just don’t feel like I have to talk about it. And I guess that’s what most people around me prefer.

My friends and family are used to Little Miss Sunshine. Jennifer, the peppy, happy, smiling and efficient. It disturbs them to think I might be unhappy, and they’re very busy people. They don’t really have time to worry about it. Besides, I’m not a kid anymore. I’m not a teenager. My life is great, right? I shouldn’t be depressed.

True, life is pretty good. I have two beautiful, healthy, sweet, smart children. I’m glad I know that because not many people tell me. Lots of people tell me what I should be doing to make them better, though. I get tons of advice from teachers, doctors, dentists, friends who have lots of ideas for more things I should do to improve my kids. Unfortunately, I just don’t have any more time, energy or money to put them in more activities, read more stories, make more crafts, take more walks, play more games.

I have a very nice husband. He’s a terrific dad who makes a good living at a job he doesn’t like much so I can stay home with our children most of the time. He’s a discontented personality, though. Nothing is ever okay. He’s always tired, always ill, always annoyed with something. We never have enough money, enough stuff, enough time. Nothing we buy is ever quite what he wanted. Nothing I cook is ever quite what he wanted.

I have a nice house. It’s always a mess, though, despite my constant efforts to clean it.

I have a great job. I love what I do. But it’s a lot of work for not much money.

I have great friends and family. They are always willing to come to any party I throw, always send me funny e-mails, always invite me to dinner or a movie. I’m sure they would be willing to listen to my worries if they didn’t have so many of their own that I feel too guilty to burden them with mine.

So I take the pills my doctor prescribed so I can be more pleasant to be around. I’ve tried to go off them a few times, but people get frustrated with me almost immediately. Still, I can’t help but feel that I have a right to be depressed without being accused of a chemical imbalance or hormonal problem. I work too much and get nowhere. I get very little encouragement. In fact, most of the folks around me just toss more complications, more tasks, more “constructive criticism” at me, rather than take anything away. The first couple times I went through this, people encouraged me to let some things go. Nowadays, it’s much more a “take-a-pill-shut-up-and-work-harder” attitude.

I blame Tom Cruise. If the moron hadn’t bashed anti-depressants and made it a cause celebre for lunatics like himself, I wouldn’t get accused of being a Scientologist every time I say I don’t like Prozac.

The other day, Senator John McCain was a guest on The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. The interview was remarkable for a couple reasons, not the least of which was the dynamic between Stewart and McCain. Although they disagree on most issues, they seem to have a genuine respect and admiration for each other’s work that shines through even when they’re having heated discussions.

For me, McCain is a problematic figure. I have admired him for years. When he was running for president, I probably would have voted for him. His recent support for the Iraq War, however, has left me scratching my head. I don’t seem to be the only one either.

One of the most telling moments of his Daily Show appearance occurred when Stewart challenged the Bush administration’s definition of “supporting our troops.” McCain said that he had talked to many soldiers who believe in the president and what they’re doing in Iraq. Even before the Stewart’s young audience started booing, I was frowning and shaking my head at the television. “What soldiers is he talking to?” I wondered.

I teach college, and many of my students are in the armed forces. Last semester, I had a total of 14 former and/or active military personnel IN ONE CLASS! This semester, I had two students who had to drop my class because they were called up for active duty - again. One of them brought me a newspaper article last week. He pointed to a headline that said Bush was going to veto Congress’s Iraq War budget/timeline bill. “How many votes does it take to override a veto?” he asked. “I really don’t want to go back over there.”

Evidently, Senator McCain isn’t hearing the same things from soldiers that I am. Is he lying? No, I don’t think so. He seems like a very good man. He is a decorated war veteran himself, a former POW. I cannot imagine any decent man with such horrific war experiences lying about his fellow soldiers’ feelings.

So last night, I was watching President Bush addressing soldiers at US Central Command Headquarters in Florida just a few hours before he was to veto the Congress bill. The military personnel were all standing around their Commander-in-Chief, smiling and shaking his hand. Then it hit me.

Catherine the Great.

According to legend, Russian empress Catherine the Great went on a tour of her country in the 18^th century. One of her favorite courtiers, Potemkin, ran ahead of Catherine’s entourage, “cleaning up” the rundown villages and even building facades over the more dilapidated buildings. When Catherine came through, she found scrubbed, smiling serfs and quaint, country cottages. She had no idea of the squalid misery in which her people lived because the people around her made sure she never saw it.

I believe something similar is happening to John McCain, George Bush, Condoleeza Rice, Dick Cheney and many other members of the conservative elite. Whenever these folks walk into a military installation, they get the Potemkin Village effect. All their advisors and peons have run ahead to make sure only the good little soldiers with their nodding heads and smiling faces get to meet the big honcho who has come to visit.

I’m not blaming the soldiers, of course. I’m as vehemently opposed to most of President Bush’s policies as anyone I know. If I got the change to meet him, though, would I walk up and start telling him everything he was doing to bring down our nation? Uh, no. First, I’d probably get a full-body tackle from any number of Secret Service agents. Second, I get star-struck and tongue-tied around the bass player for Duran Duran. Can you imagine how I’d get around the leader of the free world? Even if he is one of my least favorite people on the planet?

Plus, soldiers are immersed in military culture. To survive in combat, they have to be trained a certain way, and that includes following orders in the chain of command. If their commanding officer tells them to shut up and smile at the nice senator, that is what they have to do. If their Commander-in-Chief walks in, they are not going to tell him to drop dead unless they want an immediate ticket to a court martial.

So who is to blame for the misinformation, the misleading experiences being fed to our nation’s leaders about how our soldiers feel about the Iraq War? We certainly can’t blame our folks in uniform. We can’t really blame the leaders themselves. They can really only believe what they see and hear. Still, they are seeing and hearing what they want to see and hear. They have made their opinions so unquestionable as to make it impossible for anyone to tell them otherwise.

All in all, I wish Senator John McCain had been at my side yesterday. “How many votes does it take to override a veto?” And I always thought that U.S. government stuff I learned in high school would never really make much difference to me.