My sister lost a leg to cancer at 3. My son lost an eye to cancer at 1. My Mother received shock treatments to endure her pain of her daughter's leg lose. My father got lost in a world of valium and an occasional rum and coke. He retired at 52 and never understand his panic attacks for what they were. I found out at 45 what they were. With a family plagued with mental illness, I attacked my anxiety/depression and have been relatively functioning on my crazy drug of choice....Lexipro. Unfortunately....the job of a probation officer is one that provides an incredible about of stress. I compare it to a person wearing a suit of armor. Each day this armor takes a chink. Each day the chinks build up. At first...not noticeable. Over the years.....the weakness of the armor shows. Mine began with my meltdown on the job at 45. I ended up in a anxiety disorder group for several weeks. Today, I consul my offenders on the need to address the brain as another organ of the body. My brain...it struggles today. You guys know my story now. I am trying so hard to keep a happy face. The lack of rhyme or reason to this foot crap is so difficult for a person of logic and reason. I'd give anything for a good old fashion heart attack. Cut me up...put me back together..stick me on the diet...and move on. Pills...pills....diet? Bad back? Good one minute...horrible the next? Aaaarrrrgh. Bob you are an inspiration. The knowledge here is wonderful as are you all.