My friend Carol and I may not always have the same taste in clothes and decor, but since the day we met nearly 40 years ago we've had the kind of chemistry that makes us "best friends." We think alike on major spiritual and political issues, love animals, and laugh at the same stuff. We've also had traits in common which were not so pleasant, one trait being what we generalize as "depression." With this "depression" came alcoholism, the need for occasional isolation, anger, dread, the desire to control and sometimes the notion we were smart enough to fix the rest of the world of all its ills. To this day we're in agreement on how exactly peace and harmony can be created in the world, but when we realize how much work is involved in accomplishing such a mission we end up back on our couches watching repeats of NCIS, 2 and a Half Men, and South Park.

Recently Carol had a discussion with her doctor about overcoming what we always labeled "depression." It was a very long and complex conversation that she and I are still digesting, but the basic premise had a huge impact on my so-called life philosophy and the way I view my latest psychological reconstruction phase.

My psychological make-up differs from Carol's in many ways because we were born on opposite sides of the tracks, so-to-speak. My parents were divorced when I was 5 and while my mother was able to feed and shelter my brother and sister and me, we never experienced real family love as did many of our friends. I remember watching Father Knows Best and thinking, "Who makes this stuff up?" My emotional reaction to Leave it to Beaver and Ozzie & Harriet was similar to my reaction to Twilight Zone episodes--seemed plausible yet somehow surreal. Carol's parents weren't Ozzie & Harriet (as seen on TV), but they instilled fundamentally decent values in Carol and her brothers. They are still married, work hard to maintain a comfortable lifestyle, and still like each other enough to travel extensively during their golden years. Carol and I were raised in dissimilar environments yet we understand each other, in part, I think, because we marvel at life in the same ways. We're also intelligent enough to have always known when we were making dumb choices--not that we always cared that we were making dumb choices. My choices were usually dumber than Carol's, but because she uses more of the logical part of her brain she's kept me from falling off many cliffs. Being best friends means we usually end up commiserating and being good sounding boards for each other and I suppose my main contribution to her sanity has been less tangible; I think I encourage her-- or at least, I try.

One of my biggest psychological stumbling blocks has always been a heavy-duty resentment of my inability to totally cure my own ills. I was raised in a quit-whining-and-get-over-it environment and I've never understood why it always seemed so impossible for me to comply. It seemed to me I was required to believe that humans can acquire the ability to overcome all personality "defects," and that if we don't, we're weak, lazy sinners. I was taught so many lessons in life which conflict with my own suspicions about God, science and reality that it's no wonder I'm quite often confused. But when I was suddenly able to accept the truth that my physiology contains DNA and genetic markers just like everyone else, it was as if I'd received the answers to my most nagging questions.

Now, Carol and I aren't scientists but we've learned a lot about DNA from our favorite instructor, television! I'm sucked into all the "real" crime shows: Cold Case Files, Snapped, Extreme Forensics, while Carol prefers the dramas: NCIS, CSI,etc. So being as informed as we are about the science of DNA, imagine my shock when I began applying her doctor's information in my own life! Here I've been being educated about the science of DNA, yet somehow never really believed I was walking around with various genetic markers sloshing around inside me! Her doctor even talked to her about the possibility of altering or medicating certain markers which cause us problems. I'm on the fence with that issue; in some cases I think it's a great idea, but from a spiritual view, I've come to believe we are preprogrammed to work through (or with) the difficulties presented by our programming.

Heretofore I'd had problems applying the 12-step program's definition of "acceptance" in my own life. I spoke the words, "I accept my disease, limitations, looks, etc." but I was raised by people who may as well have said to me, "There is no need to accept your shortcomings because there are ways to eliminate them." Unfortunately they never told me how to do that, so I've spent 57 years thinking that my worst problems lie in my inability to discover the Family Secret, to wit, the ability to excise one's own shortcomings. When I recognized I had something real to accept instead of some transparent psychological notion, I was elated. It was the connection that finally made sense to me. I mean no offense to God, but it has always been nearly impossible for me to believe in something I can't see or that has no credible scientific data backing it up. Thank . . . God we are only required to have mustard seed-sized faith.

So many times throughout my 40 years of experiences with Carol I've been grateful for information she's casually passed on to me. Once again her logical pursuit of answers to our most disturbing questions has come to my rescue. (And if she reads this she'll say, "It did?") Yes, now I feel I have real enemies to fight instead of those constantly moving, unidentifiable targets. I can stop feeling anguish and guilt about urges and thoughts over which I seem to have no control; I can truly accept my emotions and deal with them logically.

Is this the time in my life when I become a Christian Scientist? Could be. I'll have to weigh the pros and cons. In the meantime I'll continue being grateful for a best friend who supplies me with the missing bits and pieces of information I need to make my life better. Perhaps I'll create a new work of art for her to show my appreciation.