Hope Shines Through

So, I stopped taking that stupid medicine my idiot shrink gave me. I haven't taken it for 4 days now and every day I am starting to feel a little bit better. It was awful! Not only was it making me super depressed, but it was also making me extremely paranoid. I have also started to take my Xanax twice a day, like it says on the label, instead of 'as needed', and that too has really helped. I am way more mellow now, but I am still feeling slightly depressed. At this point I really don't care about that though, it beats feeling the way I did on that dumb medicine. Another horrible thing about it was it made me voraciously hungry, I had to force myself to not constantly munch, and I totally gained weight within a couple of weeks, my pants are snug. But now my appetite is back to normal and I have a little more energy. To sum everything up: the medicine sucked, my shrink is stupid, and I am feeling a little more hopeful about my situation.

Sigh...

So, I don't think the new medication is working, I think it is only making it worse, so, I stopped taking it. I'm slightly less tired now, but I am still depressed, yet slightly manic at the same time (I'm tired, yet I can't sleep) :(

What's a girl to do?

I am thinking about going to a new shrink, mine just seems to want to push pills instead of listening to me and truly trying to figure out what would be best for me. Why does this whole process have to be so painstakingly difficult, especially for someone who can't gather up enough energy to do something about it. No wonder, most of us prefer to wallow and be trapped in our mental prison rather than actively seek help for it; it is so dang hard to find a good combo of shrink, therapist, and medication.

You truly wouldn't believe what a nightmare it is. It makes one feel hopeless and helpless. And please, no "well, if you would just do this..." or "You should try this..." Let me have my pity party for now, believe it or not it can be constructive. The last thing a mentally ill person wants is to be treated like a helpless child or lazy bum. And no, I'm not talking about anyone in particular here, just generalizing. I hate the standard fix-it-all remedy that everyone tries to feed me, "Well, if you would jut get out and do something..." When people say that it truly means they don't get it and never will. Believe me that doesn't fix anything, it just gets me out of the house where I can feel miserable out in public (not a fun or desirable thing when I feel this way).

Now there are times when I want to get out, and that is great, and when I feel that way it does make me feel better, but I have to feel well enough to have the energy to do so. Ah, it is all such a conundrum. Oh, well. Sorry for the rant, but I must admit I feel slightly better.

Whatever....

Yeah, yeah, we all know I'm doing crappy when I write poetry, but let's just get over it, I know I have. I sort of have to since it's simply part of my life. And let's just hope my new medication works and pulls me out of this b.s. Yes, I'm not happy about all of this, can you blame me? So, blah, blah, blah, whatever. Make of it what you will.

Desert Sand
I feel lost, alone and hopeless
Trapped inside the abyss of myself
In this drowning desert sand.
I wander aimlessly, searching
Desperate to find the comfort of another
In this forsaken, friendless land.
But for all the doors I've opened
There is no one here to release me
From this selfish desert sand.
It's choking me, controlling me
Detaching me from the truth
All I need is a friendly, helping hand.
Though, no one hears my desperate cries
For my screams are weak and stifled
By this ever-shifting desert sand.
I struggle and I fight it
But in the end it's easier to give in
So, quietly I sink into, that desert dark and grand.