Delusional Realities

I was diagnosed as having paranoia (wrongly, in my opinion - see my short story) about a year and a half ago and I have been given pills (without any warnings as to their many side effects) ever since then. I have had many physical problems as a result. So I sympathize with this lady who doesn't want her 'meds'. I'm still trying to persuade my psychiatrist (and my wife) to take me off mine. That's happening little by little, thank heavens. I especially liked the lines 'A helping hand becomes a whip/ A caring face becomes a monster'. I have often felt like that about people who tried to help me, like the psychiatrist, although I know their intentions were good. By the way, I saw a B.B.C. documentary the other day in which three eminent psychiatrists tried to distinguish between five 'normal' people and five with mental illnesses. They observed these ten people for three days and then gave their verdicts. In many cases, they couldn't work out who was sane and who wasn't! I rest my case. Best wishes, Robert.

so once long thick in wastelands of depression buried my existence in drugs and alcohol a car crash a slit wrist overdoses failure to freeze in snow rescued by concerned freind failure to carbon monoxide myself garage too old too many cracks should have used a hose such a beautiful car though nineteen seventy seven mercury cougar elegant and long starved for almost fifteen days straight got hospitalized many times shock treatment medication hooked once to tylenol fours and morphine very badly now am medicated turned epileptic while on a ten year absence from alchol but living extreme high stress gran mal three minute long four times before medication and now ride high and fall very low almost getting bucked by a crazy doctor personality clash back again just at the brink going into the new year but now trust no one again wrap the depression around keep it close the thousand mile smile i feel no love no warmth Joy Division my theme music over and over on headphones nineteen seventy nine bleak wonderous tones they are back watching from the radio the television passing in cars i can feel them like careful wolves or am I the wolf what am I anymore this is a great poem i have lived for twenty seven years

that psychiatry is at about the stage of its development that surgery was when performed by barbers. You really are finding your voice so beautifully. You speak with elegant, generous gentleness and truth. The last line has shock value but feels kind of out of place, lacking the compassion that illuminates the rest of the poem. You know yourself that the meds prescribed are often wrong, or the side effects worse than the symptoms. I have been truly screwed around by meds myself. I don't know if I am suggesting you drop it, change it or leave it. Just suggesting you have another look. cheers, Jess

"She sees reality visible to none..." You write beautifully Ms Barbara. Such a painful and delicate topic. Hope you will find some peace, you've got great style & grace ~Stella

She fought it hard until two years ago. It finally got too much for her (I did not suggest or try to put her on meds for it, but tried to be understanding). We went through some very very rough times and still have ups and downs, although not as bad. It has taken nearly two years to get the right dosages. It isn't perfect, but it helps. There are side effect though that everyone needs to be aware of. Excellent write. Respectfully, Rett: "It’s impossible to smile on the outside without feeling better on the inside." Purplemoondoll

the closest seems to be bi-polar type 2, which is cyclic deep depression with cycles of "normality" My doctor denies it because he has never seen me in manic cycle. Well du'uh, I don't go to the doctor then. The people who have known me a while in person and on this site have seen the cycles and the screwups of medications and have still stood by me. I am eternally gratefull. cheers, Jess