Here is the poem: Stopping by Woods on a Snowy EveningĪnd for those of you who might like to hear how it sounds when somebody else recites it, my son Josh offered to record it when we were out walking together in the snow. What could I say to her to make a difference? It might seem strange that I would think about this person in connection with Robert Frost’s classic lyrical poem “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.” She had preselected a site in downtown Washington DC where she could drive off a bridge without her seatbelt on and have an accident that was sure to kill her and nobody else. Yet, as we spoke about her feelings of depression and hopelessness, none of that seemed reason enough to stay alive. She was highly accomplished, well-liked by family and colleagues and, to an outsider, would certainly have seemed to have everything to live for. On one occasion when that happened, I was in-session with a woman roughly my own age. You are in an office with somebody who is telling you that he or she has no reason or desire to live any longer. It was a scenario that every psychiatrist has learned to dread.
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