Medicating Against Self Murder

I want so badly to string together eloquent words of wisdom but there just can’t be any. It’s too messy for that. I’m too chaotic to humor the possibility. These photos tell a story not many are willing to share. Why won’t they? Because it’s embarrassing. I take a handful of pills every single day to stay safe from my own disturbed thoughts. No amount of natural oils and herbs can cure the trauma that has left deep scars on my mind. I’ve got an accumulation of diagnoses from personality disorders to PTSD. It’s no even curve, it’s a damn zigzag. From top to bottom I’ve been told I am fixable and by gods I am trying to piece myself together. If it means fistfuls of medication week after week then I will do it. Some will balk at the mere idea of pumping this many chemicals in to one’s body but what other choice do I have right now? I’m knee deep in therapy learning to love a broken little girl while trying to manage intense suicidal ideations. How intense? Without my meds it is all I think about. From waking to sleep I research the best possible way to murder this body I hate. I don’t say this for attention, merely to make a point. We’ve hit the “sweet spot” and I’m going to stay here until I’m as well as I can be in this life. Taking medicine to help you through everything is not some god awful sin. You’re not an embarrassment. You’re doing what you need to to get by. It may be messy and chaotic but if it’s working do what you need to. I’m so proud of everyone out there trying. My way not be the best for everyone but it is working for me so maybe one day I’ll have enough heart to start a family and show them the love I never received.