When depression hits, it hits me like a mule. In the past couple of days, I've been going through another bout with depression after too short a rest (too soon to arrive, too long to bear).
As I mentioned before (http://project05952381.blogspot.com/2010/09/psychotic-christian.html), faith is simply not enough to tame the demons in my head. I must take medication in order to control the chemical imbalance in my brain, emotions, pain, confusion and all of it all. I want to feel that long-gone interest in the same things that once cheered me up.
Needless to say (or write), I take my pills every day as instructed by my psychiatrist. Maybe I should take more (three pills of each instead of two), but how much more is too much after all? After four years of taking the same dosage or the same medication, maybe my body's used to these chemicals (tolerance). Maybe I need other medications or simply more of the same.
Perhaps I've simply become painfully dull in the dire need of medications to cope. Then again I could just be getting old and bored.
