I always get so butt hurt about this scene, but there is just a tiny bit of truth to it.
You know what’s a weird way to describe chemically imbalanced depression? The idea that you get numb.
In my experience, both my ups and downs aren’t problematically devoid of feelings, they’re cruelly overwhelmed with them.
The pills are just like the drugs and the alcohol- except I have to ask for an appointment with a doctor who will shove me down to a nurse who will refill but not adjust my scrips, as opposed to two or four shots (depending on who I’ve had to talk to that day) of whiskey or vodka. They keep some of the feelings away. Problem is, sometimes you want to feel, and the booze and the drugs (whoever you’re getting your prescriptions from) aren’t smart enough yet to let that happen. It’s sorta like a cross between a lobotomy and a castration that comes in a bottle with an Rns name on it.
I used all the buzz words, I talked about the cravings. I asked straight out for help.
I have a safety net and people who love me and an understanding boss and every excuse under the sun for this not to be unraveling. But here I am anyways.