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The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins Gilman
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faster.

You see he does not believe I am sick!

And what can one do?

If a physician of high standing, and one's own husband,
assures friends and relatives that there is really nothing the
matter with one but temporary nervous depression--a slight
hysterical tendency--what is one to do?

My brother is also a physician, and also of high standing,
and he says the same thing.

So I take phosphates or phosphites--whichever it is, and
tonics, and journeys, and air, and exercise, and am absolutely
forbidden to "work" until I am well again.

Personally, I disagree with their ideas.

Personally, I believe that congenial work, with excitement
and change, would do me good.

But what is one to do?

I did write for a while in spite of them; but it DOES
exhaust me a good deal--having to be so sly about it, or else
meet with heavy opposition.

I sometimes fancy that my condition if I had less opposition
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