I had a post partum depression that I didn’t want. I learned that I subconsciously resented the fact that, at age 9 or so, I took my mother coffee in bed so she wouldn’t be in a bad mood when I woke her to comb and braid my hair for school. I supposedly expected to be waited on, now that I was a mother. Whatever. One day I wanted to go to an event rather than to the therapist. I was feeling much better. So I quit. I told him that I used to talk to my mother, but I didn’t need her any more either and I went to lunch, or whatever it was, instead.