In the hospital, the team and I never discussed why I was there--or the possible causes of my depression--the social aspects or the interpersonal. There was not the time nor the staffing available.

There was the impersonal feel that went with the treatment, akin to hooking my brain up to a car battery, and hoping that it worked.

No one on the team ever heard of Morpheus or of our relationship. They didn't care to know because ECT was the cure-all. I was sold, sucked in on the propaganda.

In the end, it remained a mystery why I was even there. Depression, yes, but we all waited for it to lift.

It didn't.