The depression I have is mostly under control with medication. I was taking Celexa but it stopped working so now I’m taking Paxil which appears to be working again. Working means no dark cloud around world, not everything seems hopeless and I can justify not ending it all.
I talk about depression and how I first came to take medication in a story on my blog called “Lost” and you can read about it there.
I have seen a psychologist or two and talked to my regular doctor about these things. The regular doc diagnosed me as no only having severe depression but now I have severe anxiety also – I don’t really want to be around anyone, or talk to anyone or leave home… it’s fun to try to live this way. The regular doc suggested I see a psychiatrist so that’s scheduled. Not to worry, we all know I’m crazy so there wont be any difference in how we treat me or you…. or those other people you can’t see.
Last night I dreamed I was meeting with the psychiatrist – she was a short pudgy woman with wiry black hair. As I entered her office she was sitting with her back to a corner on the floor, she motioned me forward.
I sat down on a pillow across from her and we talked about life, my new job and death and dying. I advised her, as I have others, if they would just be two pills to end it all I would take them at that moment and be done with it. She offered me her hand palm up holding two pills – one red one blue. I smiled, and asked her if she was fucking with me… she assured me no. I grabbed the pills shoved them in my mouth and swallowed.
It was actually one of my more peaceful suicide dreams.
Today, if there were an over the counter option to end it all, with forms or online options to donate body parts to science or people that oddly want to live, I’d be gone already.