Competitiveness to the point of harm seems to be in the news a lot lately. In case you missed it, Newsweek's David Noonan reviewed a documentary about a silent killer among doctors: suicide. About a doctor a day -- between 300 and 400 a year -- takes his life, according to Noonan.

The problem, which plagues this profession marked by intense rotations, is not limited to men.

While the rate of depression over a lifetime is basically the same for male physicians and the general population of men—about 12 percent—the doctors' suicide rate is 1.4 times higher. Female docs have double the rate of depression and 2.3 times the rate of suicide compared with the general population of women. (Some studies report equal rates of depression for women doctors; others report even higher suicide rates for physicians.)

So why aren't depressed docs seeking treatment for a common illness that millions of Americans have learned to manage with therapy and readily available medications? Because they worry—not without reason—that if they admit to a mental-health problem they could lose respect, referrals, income and even their licenses. Because, despite the steady increase in the number of women in the field, medicine is still very much a macho profession; physicians are supposed to be the strong ones who care for the sick, not the sick ones who need to be cared for.

Also, unlike the general population, doctors have access to prescription drugs and are more likely to die in a suicide attempt, according to Noonan's story.

Thankfully, this is an area I have no personal experience, but a recent writer to Berkeley Parents Network sought advice on how to explain her family's history of depression and suicide to her daughters.

My husband and I both have a family history of depression and suicide. My older brother (age 19), my husband's mother (age 42), and my grandfather--long before I was born--(50-ish?) all took their own lives. Our daughters, ages 6 and 10, don't know about this yet. They have asked questions from time to time about my brother's death (they have seen his pictures) and my husband's mother (they love his father's current wife, their Grandma). So far, we have only explained that they died from illness, and didn't go any further than that. How and when do we explain suicide to our daughters? I should mention that our daughters are both adopted, so our family's mental illness is not part of their health history. Our 10-year-old daughter in particularly is extremely sensitive, and doesn't like to hear sad and painful stories. But we don't want to keep "secrets" (my own family did that when my brother died, telling lies--and asking us to tell lies--about his death to all our close relatives and friends, including many of my siblings who did not find out for years). My grandfather's suicide was always a secret, and would have remained a secret -- until one of my siblings found a death certificate with suspicious language. What do you think -- when is the right time, and how to talk about it?
--Still grieving after 35 years

The BPN moderator offered a link to a previous discussion and the advice seemed sound. Most people who responded recommended the mother seek professional advice on how to broach the topic with her children and help them cope with both the information and possible mental illness. All of them said she should tell her children who may blame themselves for the death of a loved one or, when they are older, feel resentful for being left in the dark. Also, secrecy only intensifies the stigma of suicide, at least one reader said.

I know this is a sensitive topic, but what pieces of advice would you offer this mother? At what age is it appropriate to tell a child?

A very quick Google search just revealed a fact to me that is somewhat shocking. According to both the National Institute of Mental Health and the American Psychological Association, women are twice as likely to be depressed as men. There are numerous factors that may contribute to this including biology, poverty, and the way girls are raised in our culture.

I suppose I should find this statistic to be comforting in some way, since I'm one of the women it includes. Maybe I'm not so weird and crazy after all.

Tell me if this sounds familiar: You're trying to figure out what your kids are going to wear for Halloween, and there are Thanksgiving commercials on television. Or, you're confirming Thanksgiving dinner plans with your family, and Christmas commercials are on. I hate holiday marketing. It's very much IN YOUR FACE and I don't appreciate it.

I used to look forward to Christmas and buying things that I hoped loved ones really wanted. It gave me such joy to see someone opening a gift that I bought for them.

I'm not feeling the joy anymore...

A few weeks ago, as I was helping Karina clean out her closet, I found stacks and stacks of unopened Christmas gifts from years past, that were just unwrapped and forgotten in the back of a closet.

I hate to admit it, but I was more than a little upset. I wondered if my kids had lost the true meaning of Christmas? Were they spoiled? So, I told them, "That's it! This year, there will be no gifts like in previous years. You tell me ONE thing you want, and that's what you're going to get! No surprises!" They both looked at me and said, "Ok."

Christmas is around the corner, and I'm SO not ready. Since Halloween, I've felt the pressure to start my "holiday shopping", and I've gotta tell ya, I'm not feeling it this year and I don't know why. What happened to 2007? Wasn't I just complaining about how hot the summer was?

How about you? Are you looking forward to Christmas this year? When and if you've suffered from the holiday blues, what do you do to get over the hump?

I'm struggling with personal problems right now and it's made things much harder for me as a parent.  I'm trying to put the pieces together and understand what has happened and it's a journey I thought I might share, but it's personal and I'm quite honest.  

I also don't doubt that there are many women who have a hard time with motherhood just as there are many women who don't see it as hard at all.  Everyone is okay, I want to say this because this is a very personal entry and it's not meant to make a statement about other mothers, just me as a mother, that's it.

And please, I beg of you, no lectures and no scolding about my labor, my breastfeeding or any other choices.  I'm not soliciting advice.