I’d discovered some time ago – long after the business with the dog, and long before woman A – that my depressions corresponded to punishments for certain misdeeds. I’d developed a whole theory about it, and the theory helped me through the crises. I’m not saying it was true; I’m just saying it worked. In simple terms, the theory said that God holds people prisoner within their own selves. You’re still free to come and go and stay alive by whatever means you choose, but you remain a prisoner in the area – so to speak – where you made the mistake. In this case, my mistake had been sexual; as a result, I had to serve my punishment, secretly, depriving myself of the pleasure of sex, and even of women’s affection. I had an intimate, though vague, sense of how long my punishment would last. And after going through enough of these crises, I learnt to accept them. Trying to swim against the current was the worst thing I could do, because not only would I not escape the punishment, but my life would also start to fall apart all over the place. When I accepted things, everything went on as well as could be expected considering my depression (which, thanks to my trick of acceptance, usually turned into a melancholic state that was almost pleasant) (‘Transform Your Depression into Melancholia Through Acceptance and Get Your Life Back!’ my Reader’s Digest article could be called).