Therapeutic Bullshit

I say,

I have infections in my ears

The Dr looks and says,

You have infections in your ears, here ya go I’ll write some prescriptions and just take this medicine you’ll be okay

I say, my body hurts all day every day

and my soul hurts all day every day

and I feel like maybe,

could it be possible to say,

I am here but I should be finding a hole to lie down in, or a furnace to obliterate my bones to ash and smoke

Is it possible that I’m alive but I would feel better dead?

The Dr says,

I want you to take these pills and they might help and they might help and they might help

and maybe they’ll make you feel suicidal

And I ask, how will I know if they’re making me feel suicidal, I’ve been feeling suicidal and I’ve been fighting to stay alive every day for three decades and how will I know if the meds are making me worse?

The Dr says, maybe instead we should send you to an inpatient facility where they’ll sit with you and talk and you won’t be allowed to kill yourself

and,

I don’t know what to say

I’ve been winning this fight, sometimes by centimeters and sometimes by miles but I’ve been winning, my God, I’ve been saved from myself at least seven times so I’m pretty sure I can try some meds and if they make me feel suicidal I can say something, I’ve been doing that for years

And the Dr says

Now that you said you have already thought of suicide, I don’t want to trust that you won’t kill yourself

What am I supposed to say?

When I told the last Dr I was depressed she said,

You’re sad?

I’ve got plenty of things to be sad about, and I have been and I am and I will be.

I could tell you the whole story and you’d understand but also you’d feel bad for me and i don’t want to have that

I’d rather just keep it

So I say,

I’m pretty good at fighting for my life and I have a wife that fights even harder for my life and I’m not giving up on my life, that’s why I’m saying,

I’ve been fighting too hard for too long and now I need help.

I can’t do this alone. I have enough good to balance the bad. I have enough.

But it’s not balancing and I’m 40 and if I were able to talk myself into being happy I would’ve done it by now.

So I am asking,

Dear doctor

Is there a magic pill that will help me find the middle of this teeter-totter bullshit life?

Can you prescribe me some pharmaceutical gravity to even out my highs and lows?

Surely our science has progressed to the point where I might have options available, because I need help.

I’m tired.

The Dr says,

promise me that you won’t kill yourself, try these pills and promise me.

So I promise.

I get the pills.

I always thought, taking pills to be happy is like doing drugs to escape and the only difference is who gets paid.

But I have some lives to protect, mine, and those I created.

So I’ll try, and if these pills don’t work I’ll try some others.

and if the next job isn’t good enough I’ll get another.

And if I feel like I’ve tried everything, I’ll ask around for new options.

I don’t always like myself, and life is a big ball of burning dogshit,

Sometimes

but I can’t quit when there’s still a new way to discover.

Give me the medicine.

I want to be healed.

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