Anti-depressants @ MindSay

Well, I begin my counseling on Tuesday.  The intake shrink was a bit surprised when he asked me if I was looking to pursue a treatment plan involving medication, and I said I wasn't.  He actually did a double-take.  Honestly, it bothers the crap out of me that this is the first mode of treatment doctors today seem to want to look at, rather than the last. 

I'm not knocking anti-depressants, now.  I just think they're over-prescribed.  And I know that's not what I need.  I have issues that need to be addressed, not chemicals that need to be adjusted.  At least, not yet.

i predicted it.
i am everygirl.

i have no impulse to write anymore and would rather watch hours of birthing shows than write, at the moment, it seems.  i don't even have any impulse to draw waves and curls and horses spurting from the whorls at the borders of my pages anymore, and if i try, it seems as if it were a force of habit, not of mental wandering.  i do not recognize myself.  i am functioning perfectly.  i am going to class.  i am concentrating.  i have no will to stray.

i wish i had never taken medicine and i wish that doctors would leave me alone.  and i wish that i could feel rather than feeling  nothing but still knowing the heaviness there. it is like with anethesia--though you are numbed you feel the pressure of the scalpal slicing through skin and fat, though not the sinking pain.  and you only lay there, waiting, breathing, in vain.

there are relics of what i once felt, the fact that others keep inviting me to share art, party, and discuss philosophies.  i am lukewarm, though i will probably go, out of nothing better to do.  i tire of the cult of intellect and i myself have become stagnant, halted and watching my delusions go.  this is perfect for a poem i read today. it also reminds me of my friend Josh (the black not the blond):

Reasons for Attendance

The trumpet's voice, loud and authoritative
Draws me a moment to the lighted glass
To watch the dancers--all under twenty-five--
Shifting intently, face to flushed face,
Solemnly on the beat of happiness.

--Or so I fancy, sensing the smoke and sweat,
The wonderful feel of girls.  Why be out here?
But then, why be in there?  Sex, yes, but what
Is sex?  Surely, to think the lion's share
Of happiness is found by couples--sheer

Inaccuracy, as far as I'm concerned.
What calls me is that lifted, rough-tongued bell
(Art, if you like) whose individual sound
Insists I too am individual.
It speaks; I hear, others may hear as well,

But not for me, nor I for them; and so
With happiness.  Therefore I stay outside,
Believing this; and they maul to and fro,
Believing that; and both are satisfied,
If no one has misjudged himself.  Or lied.

--_LARKIN

It takes everything from me. People I love most.  Wild fucking hopes it grounds.  And now, myself. I am but a veil of my wants.  Even if they're never found, I need the song that haunts.

The Vietnamese man who did my nails said I had an old soul.

Oh, jewels and binoculars hang from the head of the mule.

I went to dinner at Red Chimney with my dad, it was good, and our service was quick.  Then we went to Albertson's to do some light shopping, because they had this sale that started today-four 12 packs of Coke for freaking $8, heck yes.  Michael was working so he brought our groceries to the car and joked around with my dad.  It was just a good evening, I felt better while I was out with mi padre.  I sure do love my daddy. <3

Also in the car on the way to dinner, I talked to my dad about my anti-depressents. I didn't really take them all summer, mostly because I was just lazy and was sleeping and funky times.  Also though, I was feeling pretty good, or at least not depressed.  So I was not remembering because I wasn't depressed, and I wasn't awake, basically.  And now that I'd like to start taking them again, (Because I got off the meds without consulting a doctor and all AND I've been really depressed lately) I can't because it upsets my stomach so much.  Anyway, I shared all this with my dad, and suggested maybe I talk to my doctor about it. (I don't do shrinks, bad history.  I use my primary care for head meds too.)  But he seemed really wary and suggested therapy.  Dang, I really don't want to go to therapy at all.  I've gone to so freaking many different therapists throughout my life, and there have been maybe one or two who actually really helped me in anyway.  I just can't really open up to them.  I would really, really have a hard time with it right now, because one of the first questions a therapists asks is about self mutilation, and there is no way I could talk about that.  No freaking way. I just want my meds back without them making me sick.  Is that so much to ask?  I think it's going to end up being alot harder then that though, unfortunately.

Anyway. After I got home I finished my Algebra homework and now I'm feeling pretty down again.  I want my freaking drugs back, yo.  Perscribed drugs, that is.

-Courtney

I don't say this lightly - I mean, the guy is a good actor (debatable, I'm sure) and I wish him all the happiness in the world for his publicity driven relationship. But let me fill you in on why he is a mjor league idiot.

In his fantasy world driven by L. Ron Hubbard's sci-fi semi religion, Tom Cruise professes to know everything about the history of psychiatry and therefore, Brooke Shields' claims that anti-depressants saved her life when she was suffering from post-natal depression are wrong. She is weak. And therefore, by proxy, every person who has suffered from the medical condition called depression is weak and simply does not know that these things don't work and they have been brainwashed.

The Church of Scientology claims that this disease of depression is designed by the media and drug companies to make money - it does not exist. Depression is only a combination of sadness, lonliness and anguish (gee, sounds pretty bad to me) and did not exist prior to the drug companies deciding to make money from suffering.

Bullshit. Crap.

Speaking (writing) from experience, I was not conned by drug companies into taking anti-depressants. I was not conned into feeling better and no longer wanting to run and hide from everything and anything. And I speak for anybody who has suffered and no longer has to suffer due to "drugs" - these things can work. And if Brooke Shields feels that they saved her life, then they did and Tom Cruise, who lives in a fantasy world and has never suffered from this condition, can jump off as many couches and buildings as he wants, it doesn't change the fact that he is a royal idiot.

In his own words, "you're a jerk ... jerk ... you're a jerk"