I really thought today was the day it was over. A brief history: In April I had my plan ready and the day before I was to implement it, a force stronger than I (God?) intervened and convinced me to get help, something I adamantly did not want to do, until that very moment. I told my wife everything. I went to GP, diagnosis was major depression. Started me on meds. First meds didn't work (Lexapro). Switched meds to Cymbalta 60mg. I wanted to believe the meds were helping, and they might be helping some, but not enough, which I will get to. But I didn't want to tell anyone they weren't working. Telling people about my depression wasn't fun and I don't like the way I'm treated now (I'm treated differently because of my depression). So, I started planning late last week. Today I implemented my new plan and went out to the spot I picked. No doubts at all. Until I got there. I was going to xxxxx. I had never xx before, so I xxxxxxxxx Now I'm frustrated and feeling rather pathetic that I couldn't do what I wanted to do. I cried all the way home, thinking about having to tell my wife about this. But I've had time at home alone this afternoon and am now thinking I won't tell her. I know I should, but I can come up with as many reasons not to tell her as I can for telling her. I'm really torn. Is it wrong to keep it to myself, provided that I do talk to my GP, which I intend to do?