I'm allergic to antidepressants, and I can't afford a shrink.
I have a family history of depression...
The time I was on antidepressants, so was my mother, father, grandmother and grandfather...
I remember telling my doctor about the way I was feeling, and she said there's an easy road and hard road. Take these pills, that's the easy road, that's the chair lift. Tough it out, get your knees scuffed and your knuckles bruised and climb this mountain yourself, that's the hard way.
Give me the chair lift.
A few months, a few bad reactions, a few ill planned months abroad, and I was back in the office again. Please, I'm not strong enough to do this on my own.
Ok, chair lift two.
I feel crazy, my head itches, I stay over on my dad's couch for the first time in years because I'm too scared to tell my mom what's going on. I call a pharmacist, I'm allergic (to yet another thing).
I go back to the doctor. No chair lifts. Get on your gloves, you have to do this on your own.
I make myself so busy that there's no time to think about big terrifying things. I focus and change my life situation so that things get better because I force them to. I even get a job so that I really don't have time to think.
There's a lull, I hate my job, I make big plans. I think about moving abroad. I tell people who seem sane that I want to move abroad.
They tell me why don't I stay close to home and get a government job with a good disability plan, because with my condition, I'm likely to relapse... especially if I'm doing it the hard way.
I prove them wrong, I move abroad, I struggle and I triumph. I'm bad at my job, I'm good at my job, I'm great at my job, I'm bored of my job.
I get so used to being tough and a rock for others, I look around and my rocks are gone.
What's wrong, I don't know, well if you don't know why are you upset, just don't be upset then if you don't know. OK. I'll just stop being upset then, you're right.
If I'm feeling feelings but I'm not willing to talk about them, or I can't put them into words then I should stop being upset because no one can help me if I don't talk, so I should stop being in need.
When I feel the black dog's eyes on me, this is how every conversation goes. I can't open up because this is how every conversation goes. I can't open up because I'm afraid I'll fuck up everything. I've learned before I can't take my words back, I've been burned before, so I won't speak up, why should I. I should just wait for this to blow over like it always does. I don't have any neutral parties to talk to. I can't afford that convenience. I can't afford to lose any more friends. I can't afford to alienate any more people.