Things are a lot better than before, I’m on prozac and I feel that’s worked when everything else I’ve tried hasn’t. Food for thought for those who don’t feel the affects of their medication. I was the biggest hater of medication. As a preteen with depression I resented the medication that was forced on me. I viewed medications as something that pointed to me as tainted…and it never solved anything. I tired six different meds and after a while I stopped believing they would work. My mother on the other hand continued to rely on the pills as the cure all/hail mary for my problem. I think she didn’t understand the situation.

I hated my psychologist, she was older, didn’t relate, I felt like she would medicate anything with a pulse. I told her about a kid I babysat who was a bed wetter, she wanted to put him on meds.  Soon resenment built up and I no longer looked at meds as my salvation. Now the meds were something to sedate me not save me I had no faith in them and I didn’t want to put up with the regimin.

My days began to revolve around hiding my pills rather than taking them. My mother still forced them on me even though nothing worked and I wasn’t invested. My teenage rebellion consisted of hoarding hiding and stashing my medication around the house. Soon, the pills were pilling up and I would make trips around the house to find my hidden pills and flush the evidence of my deceit down the toilet.

Now, even writing about it I feel stupid, how much money did I flush down the toilet? At the same time I will never back down from the fact that none of those pills worked for me and even if they were the right pills, I was not in a point in my life where I could really take advantage of medication.

I hate that people who have never suffered from depression will, a majority of the time, have control over depression sufferes. It seems unfair and moreover unjust to have people who don’t comprehend depression to make all the big decisions. I feel like there are two kinds of depressed people, the people that want help and don’t know how to say/get it  and the people who want to be left alone to die. I am/was the latter. If I want to die, I don’t want to be hostipatlized, stuck in some sterilized er. I don’t want help, I want what I want and no one else has lived my life or suffered in the exact same way I have. Therefore, I don’t feel anyone has the right to deprive me of a peaceful death. But this has become morose now, those are my thoughts about depression and how others deal with it.

Things right now are a lot better, the prozac has helped more than any other drug, it’s like a light switch has been turned on. I look outside into the garden and it feels like the first spring I’ve ever witnessed. It’s beautiful.

At night things aren’t great sometimes. I’m writing now because of my heartache. My heart feels like it is rotted and part of me wants to just scrape it out so I no longer have a heart to break or bleed. Instead I would be the essence of wrath and anger…behind my need to care about others is the anger I feel.

Did someone ever do something awful to you and you just know they don’t feel bad about it at all. Like as an example, that 12yr old that killed himself because kids were teasing him? I’d put all my money on the statement  that those bullies don’t think they’re responsible, they ratioionalize that something else sent that kid off the edge. They feel no guilt. And they killed that 12yr old. People killed who I used to be and I’ll have to be around them next fall, witnessing their lack or empathy or responsibility. "