Psychotropic Drugs.

 

 

 

 

My own Tabula Rasa.

 

Scar me Beautiful. Scar me Flawless.

 

 

† . †

 

 

 

I went and saw my psychiartist a few days ago. He told me that I have "treatment resistant depression" and "Borderline Personality Disorder". 

I told him how addicted I am to Effexor. That I withdraw the same day I fucking took it. That I am still depressed, I can’t do anything. I can’t fuck much anymore, that music just drones through my mind and leaves me.

He wanted to up my dose, after telling me that many people that try to quit Effexor can’t, as the withdrawl is too unbearable. This is always the way. I am given some pretty new pills, they don’t work and so the dose is adjusted until it gets to the maximum dose and I must switch again. My doctor wanted to give me the maximum dose of Effexor, but I said no.

So I am taking this ineffective, addictive pill morning and lunch time.

My supposed healer. Yet again I have been failed. It is like a one night stand, you expect to feel… fufilled and ‘normal’. Except you are overcome by the exitement of something new, of this hope. And you’re left the next morning worse than you were the night before.

Anyway.

My shrink told me that I would need to be on meds for the rest of my life.This information raped what hope I had left, as I have been told for… years, that my depression was emotional, not biological. The fact that I am going to be like this for the rest of my life just… murders me.

It’s like I have been handed a life long prison sentence that I feel I should be grateful for.