Tuesday, June 12, 2007

One more Day


It makes me sad…..sadder
No…..angry!!!
To see the drug ads, the depression info
The anti-suicide sites

“DEPRESSION IS TREATABLE!!!!”

The 200mg of Lamictal
The 300mg of Effexor
The 50mg of Trazadone
The 0.5mg Klonopin PRN

Therapy Therapy Therapy

Is it the hormones?
The jobs situation?
Grad School?
Money?

There were triggers, real life things
But those don’t really matter anymore

I have done all of the healthy things
I make deals with my calendar
Just make it through
One commitment to the other
Hold on until…
that lunch meeting,
that work shift,
the next doctor’s appointment
I dragged myself to my favorite art festival
Tried to connect with the colors
Without screaming
I had a moment or two
Beauty touched
Then EXHAUSTION

I’ve been so tired

It is so ironic that I had lunch with the doctors from the Psy hospital today
Funny how I was on a locked ward playing old maid with the clients today

Trying not to cry
Faking it, until I made it

I told my psychologist friend….
Friend? Supervisor? Confident? Advisor?
Of my new bipolar diagnosis
He interrogates me…if Dr K. (my psychologist…they are admiring peers of each other)
No No No…I say…the psychiatrist
Dr.K disagrees
“You are not bipolar”

I tell him about my new job
My anxiety about paying for grad school
Talking about interning in the admissions ward

I don’t tell him about the tears I have been holding back all day

He tells me to spread my wings
I learned a lot already
Do real counseling… he tells me
“Who am I to do counseling…?”
Just try it

I left….with a sprinkle of hope


My drive home
It is so fucking hot

Knowing there is more happiness
In the locked ward
Then in my own heart

Their families
Their children
Their Porsches
Their spouses
Their laughter

Will I ever have a spouse?
A healthy relationship?
A child (on these drugs?)
A functional happy family?

Will I ever shake this fucking depression?
In my dreams I am depressed
In my dreams I think about dying.

It keeps getting worse
It is like that day…..

I call Doctor K
I hate making those calls
I know he is still working
When the answering service answers
I know he is with a client
I just leave the simple message
“He would want me to call.”

He is so bad on the phone
He knows he is bad on the phone
The standard stuff
I can’t manage to go to see a friend today
I told him I would garden
I didn’t garden

He called me back
I assured him I was okay
I was reading a book
I was not okay
But I was reading a book

I feel so stupid to call
I am sure he loves those calls from
Borderline patients
I am such a fuck-up

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