
Today was the final straw. I have been off my depression meds for about 3 months and I realized I couldn't go on like this. I thought for a while, "who wouldn't be sad with all this going on?" the fact is, if someone wasn't sad, considering, they would have some serious problems.
But, I wasn't only sad. I wasn't able to live normally. Nothing quite seemed right and I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. My sadness consumed me and my health has deteriorated.
I've always cared so much about others but my heart has been so raw to everyone else,every pain has fallen so much more severe. In my desire to help others, ironically I've made myself a source of worry.
Medicine isn't a cure all. It isn't weakness either. I am too hard on myself. Way too hard. I cannot fix everything myself. Not my dad's kidney failure, my sister's bulimia, or my ex-mom's psychopathy.
I can take my medicine
I can ignore certain family members that make me feel bad about not being as present as they'd like
I can help those in need
I cannot fix
fact: I am who I am and I do the best I can with what I have.
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