Pills are decoupage; layered, then shellacked, disguising imperfection and madness by prescription, after prescription, after . . .
For the very first time since I swallowed my first 20 mg. tablet of Paxil four-and-a-half years ago, I finally understand why so many people living with mood disorders stop or want to stop ingesting those damned little pills. Those little pills, like slap-happy lovers, amend their promises of change immediately after they’ve failed you once again. One more chance? One more try? We’re narrowing the field; one day we’ll strike the right chord, just have patience. Patience? What patience? NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness) reported that adults who live with serious mental illness die 25 years earlier than other Americans . . .
Imagine yourself standing next to the Greyhound bus to say good-bye to Hope as she takes a window seat, looking at you detached and indifferent. Your worst fear is happening: That Greyhound bus is leaving you utterly Hopeless. Hopelessness is a loaded…
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