Researching Researching Researching.. I spend such a huge amount of my time looking for answers to my mental health problems.
The search for an answer has taken over my life nearly to the same extent as my illness.
When Nardil worked... for about 6 months, my mind was free of this obsessional pursuit of mine. And to be free of symptoms as well, it was truely liberating.
I am a young man, I shouldnt know about upregulation, D2 receptors and NMDA Antagonists. I shouldnt know how to critically read clinical research. I shouldn't know better than my Doctor or Pharmacist the ins and outs of every psychiatric drug that exists.
But I do
I have a good GP who lets me try different treatments if I show him good evidence. But he doesn't know what to do... and I think he is basically sick of it all.
Specialists....what a joke. Specialise in being fucking average, fucking conventional..concervative.
Its this huge burden, this bag of fucking bricks I have slung over my shoulder that is ever present.. I work with it, I sleep with it, I take it with me wherever I go.
This is an illness, it is not a part of me. It is a tumor, something wrong that should not be.
How good is good enough? How well is well? What is quality of life?
If I lose myself in treating the disease...is that an acceptable outcome?
What is the self anyway?
This is a cage, a ball and chain, a hood, a hole.
But what can you do?
You struggle on
You catch the glimpses of sunlight
You accept that it is your lot to struggle
to work at the bars
to hammer at the chain
Because to not do this, would be not to exist
Thanks for reading this
The search for an answer has taken over my life nearly to the same extent as my illness.
When Nardil worked... for about 6 months, my mind was free of this obsessional pursuit of mine. And to be free of symptoms as well, it was truely liberating.
I am a young man, I shouldnt know about upregulation, D2 receptors and NMDA Antagonists. I shouldnt know how to critically read clinical research. I shouldn't know better than my Doctor or Pharmacist the ins and outs of every psychiatric drug that exists.
But I do
I have a good GP who lets me try different treatments if I show him good evidence. But he doesn't know what to do... and I think he is basically sick of it all.
Specialists....what a joke. Specialise in being fucking average, fucking conventional..concervative.
Its this huge burden, this bag of fucking bricks I have slung over my shoulder that is ever present.. I work with it, I sleep with it, I take it with me wherever I go.
This is an illness, it is not a part of me. It is a tumor, something wrong that should not be.
How good is good enough? How well is well? What is quality of life?
If I lose myself in treating the disease...is that an acceptable outcome?
What is the self anyway?
This is a cage, a ball and chain, a hood, a hole.
But what can you do?
You struggle on
You catch the glimpses of sunlight
You accept that it is your lot to struggle
to work at the bars
to hammer at the chain
Because to not do this, would be not to exist
Thanks for reading this