(This was written by Eldest Daughter for a college class–based loosely on parts of Petrarch’s Secretum.)
Dear Diary, Monday
I?ve been really depressed for a while now, so today I decided to go see a shrink. Normally I think that psychologists make people worse than they are in the first place, but I’m kind of desperate. I mean, I’ve been miserable for quite a while, and I don’t seem to be getting better, despite my efforts to get myself out of this rut. So this morning I picked up the phone book, flipped to the P’s, and picked a name at random– Dr. Vera Veritas. I dialed the number and set up an appointment for tomorrow afternoon at three. I don’t have much hope for the interview, but we’ll see how it goes.
Yours,
Frankie

Dear Diary, Tuesday
When I got to her office, Dr. Veritas showed me into a small room, and asked me to wait for a few minutes. When she came back, she brought an old man with her, introduced him to me as St. Augustine, and explained that he was better qualified to talk me through my problems. This was clearly some kind of joke, but I decided to suspend my disbelief and go along with it. This was our dialogue:
Augustine: What seems to be the problem?
Frankie: Well, you know, I’m depressed.
A: Not nearly depressed enough.

F: Are you crazy? I can barely get any work done on my great epic poem, I’m so depressed.
A: Have you forgotten that you will die one of these days?
F: Of course not, I know that, but why on earth would I want to think about it?
A: Why on earth should you think of anything else? The only thing that you can be certain of is that death will come.
F: Wait, hold it just a second! You’re supposed to make me feel better, not worse.
A: The only way to get out of this abyss you’re sinking into is to realize your very real danger.
F: What danger? I’m not in any danger that I know of.
A: And that is why you are in very great danger indeed. Look here, you said you want to “feel better”.  is that right?
F: Of course it is.
A: Then you realize that you’re unhappy, and you want to be happy.
F: Naturally.
A: All right then, the answer is simple. If you want to be happy, then you’ll try to achieve happiness, and of course if you try to achieve happiness, you’ll achieve it.
F: But how does that follow? I’ve tried to gain all kinds of things that I’ve never actually gained.
A: I can see I’m going to have to remind you of what the philosophers have said. It’s been a while since you’ve studied Cicero, hasn’t it?
F: I suppose so; I really haven’t had the time for that lately. And what does Cicero have to do with my problem anyway?
A: He has everything to do with it. Don’t you remember that only virtue can make you happy? If you choose to do what’s right, then you?ll be happy.
F: Uh-uh, I don’t think so. You’re trying to turn this around so it’s my fault, and it certainly isn’t. I came here so you could fix my problems, not so you could send me on a guilt trip.
A: Then we’re at an impasse. You obviously don’t want to be cured.
F: Of course I do!
A: Then you’re going to have to admit that you are responsible for your own sickness.
F: I’d rather die than admit that!
A: Be careful how you use that word. In fact, death could come at any moment.
F: Are you back on that again? I can’t imagine anything less helpful to me than thinking seriously about death.
A: And I can’t imagine anything less helpful, or more dangerous, than thinking about it lightly.
F: What’s the danger?
A: The danger is that you’re deceiving yourself, and even worse, you don’t know you’re deceiving yourself. Everyone has to die.
F: Well, sure they do, but I’m only 35. It’s not going to happen to me for a long time. We have much longer life-spans nowadays than people did in the fifth century.
A: And how can you be sure that you won’t be run over by a car the minute you step outside? Or get cancer or have a heart attack?
F: Are you trying to traumatize me? You know, I’m really not sure what your angle is, but this is definitely not what I expected from a shrink.
A: What did you expect?
F: Well, for one thing, I expected that you’d listen to me talk for a while, instead of preaching to me.
A: All right, go ahead. Tell me why you don’t think you’re responsible for the mess you’re in.
P: To start with, I wouldn’t call it a mess. I’m just a little depressed, that’s all. And it obviously isn’t my fault. I’m sure it’s because of incidents in my childhood, you know, repressed memories and all that. Maybe I’m not perfect, but no one is, and you really can’t expect me to be. I do my best to be a good person, but what’s the point anyway? I’m not asking for much, you know.
A: What is it that you want?
F: Well, just the basics: food, clothes, security, no one bossing me around all the time. Surely that’s reasonable.
A: Actually, you’d have to be a god to have all that. And since you’re never going to have it, why waste what little time you have in thinking about it?
F: Wow, you certainly know how to lower a person’s spirits. I suppose you think I should just concentrate on death all the time. How’s that supposed to make me feel better?
A: You’re way too concerned about feeling good. Good feelings won’t help you after you die. Meditation on death may not make you feel good right now, but it will help you to see the world you’re in right now as it really is– temporary and fleeting. You’ll be able to see what’s important and what’s not.
P: Sounds way too hard. Aren’t you going to try and build up my self-esteem?
A: I think you already have more than enough self-esteem. I’d like to strip away some of your self-esteem so that you can see yourself as you really are.
P: That doesn’t sound like much fun. I’d rather keep my illusions, thank you.
A: If you aren’t willing to help yourself, then I’m afraid I can’t help you either.
P: I wish you’d said that a lot earlier. You could have saved me a lot of time. Sorry, Dr. Veritas, but I don’t think this type of counseling is what I need. Thanks anyway, St. Augustine or whatever your name is. See you later.
(Needless to say, the interview didn’t go as planned).
Yours,
Frankie

Dear Diary, Wednesday
Today I got in touch with a new psychologist. He says he’s going to help me discover my inner child. I can’t wait.
Yours,
Frankie