The medicine is like a bandaid.
After months of crawling in the metaphorical dirt, my physician got fed up and referred me to a psychiatrist. I didn’t fight it, I gave up.
I’ve given up for a while now. I’m in a mental limbo: I care… but I don’t.
How may times have I cycled through the mental healthcare system? I’ve lost count.
Have a crisis… see the Doc… meet the new Psych… get meds… ignore everything…. Have a crisis- again.
I thought I was doing well. I always think I’m doing well. The medication slaps a lid on my emotions, muffles the voices… for a while. But when the voices seep through, they just get gradually louder.
That nasty inner voice:
See? No one cares about you.
You’re such a worthless human being.
Go die already.
My bandaid fell off.