Back when I was in college, I would hit my boyfriend. I'm still ashamed. Typically, it happened exactly the way this letter describes - my boyfriend would shut down, start ignoring me, and I'd fly into a rage. I felt hopeless and so amazingly frustrated. It was a terrible relationship - not just because I hit, but because my boyfriend wouldn't communicate with me. Our methods of dealing with each other were horribly broken.

We broke up (thank heavens!), I ended up being treated for an anxiety disorder, and 10 years later, the rage is gone. I have a mature relationship with my fiance, we talk, and we have methods of dealing with conflict that don't involve him withdrawing, and me hitting. I don't even yell, much less hit.

So, while of course it is horribly wrong for anyone to hit anyone else, and the guy really ought to consider leaving, he should also consider how he's dealing with conflict, because it'll impact other relationships - his next girlfriend might not hit, but she might just throw up her hands and leave.

I completely understand where the letter writer is coming from. There were days earlier in my life where if I could have figured out a painless way to die (and that wouldn't leave a mess for anyone to clean up), I would have done it. Social Phobia is amazingly isolating - you want to reach out, you are convinced you are doing everything wrong, you are convinced that you are making everyone around you miserable, and on top of it, you are constantly told that if you just try a little harder you'll get "over" it.

Personally, it took medication and therapy to get me to a point where I have a good life. It also took learning how to knit. No, honestly. See, with knitting, you have an endless topic of conversation - at least, with other knitters. You have built in reasons to socialize - there are classes to take, meetings to go to, and honestly, no one thinks you are the least bit odd if you sit quietly in a corner, because, well, knitting takes concentration.

Oh, and knitting, once you learn how, is soothing. It's a bit like petting a kitty while you talk to someone - your hands are doing something rhythmic and enough of your brain is engaged that you can get over all the crazy things darting around.

So, I know the letter writer has tried medication and therapy, but there are lots of new things to try. Treating the depression won't work if they don't get to the social phobia part (although some of the medications are the same).

If you're going to compare, it only makes sense to compare a woman's right to give the child up for adoption vs. the man's right to give the child up.

Camel, you just made me think - when a woman gives the chidl up for adoption, she's actually transferring her responsibilities to another family. That family then takes on the financial needs of the child. When a father declines to support his child, who is he transferring the responsibility to? Who picks up the slack?

It seems to me that the real equivilent would be for a father to find another person who was willing to pay child support, and recieve all the benefits that would entail.

If my power was out, in a storm, and I called a friend and asked if I could come over, and she said no because her boyfriend was there...

well, I don't think I'd consider her much of a friend. I probably wouldn't smear her name around the town, but she wouldn't be high on my list of people.

If I had a friend call me, during a storm, and their power was out, I'd say yes, even if I did have other plans. Because, dude, is cold, its a storm, and my convenience is not nearly so important as not having friends freeze to death (or just be alone and scared in the cold).

But, that's just me.

My father is bipolar/schizophrenic. I have social anxiety disorder, which could have come from either side of my family. Both sides of my family have long histories of alcoholism, and on my mother's side, you can pick out the socially anxious ones.

I personally never turned to alcohol and drugs, despite the fact that a lot of folks with SAD do (Its understandable - everything becomes easier with a glass of wine in you). Mostly, it was because I was terrified of becoming addicted, plus, I don't tolerate it well at all. I lucked out, and missed the gene(s) for alcoholism.

Should I have kids? I don't know. Will I? Probably. After all, despite my father's mental illness, he lives a pretty good life. I have a great life, despite mine, now that the SAD is under control. I like to think that if I warn my kids early about their family history, and keep a sharp eye out, that all will be fine. But, who knows? Maybe my kids will instead inherit my stubborness and smarts, and not the craziness. Or, maybe they'll end up all atheletes who don't like to read like my cousins. I'll love them anyways, while cramming books into their heads.

I think if anyone looks at their family history close enough, they can find a reason to not have children.