I'm on a new pill today: cymbalta. Yesterday I went to see my therapist at the shrink's office.(Funny, I've only seen the shrink once, the first day that I visited this office over eight years ago.) I told my therapist about the rough time that I had been having over the past five days and how, at least once a month, for three to five days I was having a similar rough time with massive depression.
Normally, when I related these lingering bouts with the blues to her, she just looks at me and says, "Gosh Mikel, we've got you on just about every kind of pill you can be on at massive dosages."
She didn't say that today.
She said, "have you ever heard of efexor?"
I said, "Yes, I've heard people say good things about it."
She said, "Well, I'm going to take you off Wellbutrin and put you on this new pill that is kind of like efexor and has the same thing in it as Wellbutrin.
My face lit up. I was willing to try anything.
"Do you hear voices?" she had asked me.
"No," I said.
"Do you think about killing yourself? she asked.
I made sure to clarify my response to this question. Years ago, on a Friday, I had felt very manic, so I checked in with the therapist who I was seeing at the time. He had asked me the same question, about whether I was thinking about killing myself and I had made the mistake of telling him "yes."
I really wasn't thinking about killing myself. It was just that life felt so awful at that moment, that anything seemed better than it. Well, by saying yes, I wound up on a mattress for three days under a bright light, in front of an office where someone could always watch me: I was under suicide watch.
So, I knew that if I said to my therapist, today, that I was thinking about killing myself, that men in white uniforms might show up again and take me away to the funny farm.
I told my therapist this and she laughed. I said I feel awful during these three to five day periods of depression, like anything would feel better than living, but I don't want to kill myself.
She smiled and scribbled on her clipboard.
Anyway, I'm glad to be on a new pill.
Like the L.A. punk band Black Flag once sang, "Depression got a hold of me, depression, man, I got to break free."
Normally, when I related these lingering bouts with the blues to her, she just looks at me and says, "Gosh Mikel, we've got you on just about every kind of pill you can be on at massive dosages."
She didn't say that today.
She said, "have you ever heard of efexor?"
I said, "Yes, I've heard people say good things about it."
She said, "Well, I'm going to take you off Wellbutrin and put you on this new pill that is kind of like efexor and has the same thing in it as Wellbutrin.
My face lit up. I was willing to try anything.
"Do you hear voices?" she had asked me.
"No," I said.
"Do you think about killing yourself? she asked.
I made sure to clarify my response to this question. Years ago, on a Friday, I had felt very manic, so I checked in with the therapist who I was seeing at the time. He had asked me the same question, about whether I was thinking about killing myself and I had made the mistake of telling him "yes."
I really wasn't thinking about killing myself. It was just that life felt so awful at that moment, that anything seemed better than it. Well, by saying yes, I wound up on a mattress for three days under a bright light, in front of an office where someone could always watch me: I was under suicide watch.
So, I knew that if I said to my therapist, today, that I was thinking about killing myself, that men in white uniforms might show up again and take me away to the funny farm.
I told my therapist this and she laughed. I said I feel awful during these three to five day periods of depression, like anything would feel better than living, but I don't want to kill myself.
She smiled and scribbled on her clipboard.
Anyway, I'm glad to be on a new pill.
Like the L.A. punk band Black Flag once sang, "Depression got a hold of me, depression, man, I got to break free."
posted by mikel k poet at 11:35 AM
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