it to a living soul, of course, but this is dead paper
and a great relief to my mind --) perhaps that is one
reason I do not get well faster.

You see he does not believe I am sick!

And what can one do?

If a physician of high standing, and one's own
husband, assures friends and relatives that there is
really nothing the matter with one but temporary
nervous depression -- a slight hysterical tendency --
what is one to do?

My brother is also a physician, and also of high
standing, and he says the same thing.

So I take phosphates or phosphites -- whichever it
is, and tonics, and journeys, and air, and exercise,
and am absolutely forbidden to "work" until I am
well again.

Personally, I disagree with their ideas.

Personally, I believe that congenial work, with
excitement and change, would do me good.

But what is one to do?

I did write for a while in spite of them; but it does
exhaust me a good deal -- having to be so sly about
it, or else meet with heavy opposition.

I sometimes fancy that in my condition if I had
less opposition and more society and stimulus -- but
John says the very worst thing I can do is to think
about my condition, and I confess it always makes
me feel bad.

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