Docter Docter, What’s The Vaccine For Venlafaxine?

Doctor Doctor,
Excuse me if you find me too revealing,
But I’ve got to express the way that I’m feeling,
My patience has reached the highest of ceiling,
And yet I’m still here attempting at acknowledging and revealing,
Despite how much my (so-called) personal mental health practitioners have got me reeling!
I should have known that they don’t care about me,
Are clueless as to my lack of well being,
Cause they ain’t calling,
And they ain’t visiting,
When and if they do,
It’s a quick and short questionnaire,
With a how do you do,
Paper work being the only essential and correct thing they get through.
If you feel suicidal,
Call up the Doctor.
If you feel to anxious,
Call Up the Doctor.
If you feel psychotic,
Call up the Doctor.
Now you know how it goes,
Just call up the Doctor!
Except for if you self harm,
Then go to A and E,
As the mental health squad are far too busy and precious to get all bloody,
After all I have BPD,
It won’t be an emergency,
Just another self distortion,
Miles away from self abortion,
Just another dramatic Borderline seeking attention,
They’ve given up on BPD prevention,
Or so it seems,
From all of my experience within institutionalisation.
If you don’t feel good,
Just call up the Doctor!
Well I’ve been ringing the Doctor over and over again.
Somebody explain to me if they will pick up and when?
I don’t understand all of this awful Jazz music I am forced to hear.
I’m not feeling well,
Oh dear.
In fact I’m already planning the fastest ticket out of here.
I just need a sound piece of mind,
Somone or somebodies to cool me down,
Make me feel more refined,
I don’t know how humans are supposed to be designed,
But there is a little trip in me,
I got a few problems with my sanity,
And all of this is kept under reasonable confidentiality,
The thing with mental illness is that it’s something you cannot see,
So people don’t think I’m ill when they look at me,
But certain people,
The professionals,
They know most,
And should understand,
And still I can’t get their attention,
And I’ve been patient,
Not even expecting anything on demand,
Two months and not a word,
An email and they’ve just gone!
It’s now you pushing my buttons,
Where is everybody?
Psychologist?
Mental Health Nurse,
Support,
Doctor?
My partner is not a psychological professional,
Yet someone (and in my notes you boast as if taking credit) I do get alot of my support from,
He is part of but has not painted anyone out of the picture,
You’ve not even seen him,
But of cause the idea makes you less concerned,
Just imagine if he ceased to exist,
Or if he put me at more risk,
There’s been no meeting or introduction,
His not trained or signed up for this,
But since you got wind of him,
It is only you who constantly lets me down,
To know a solid partner exists,
I think you have happily wrote me off as fully cared for on your insulting lists,
His not a vaccine,
I need Venlafaxine,
What have you done but gotten me dependant and addicted,
To a drug I now need,
But you are keeping it restricted.
No one foresaw the pandemic,
Least of all I,
Yet somehow you are punishing me for it,
And slipping away far too quick.
I’m cold turkey off drugs now,
And I believe that you wanted me to be sick,
Perhaps a threat to pipe down a bit,
But No One speaks,
And exposes the bullshit,
No matter the concequence of it.
2020,
Ive been abandoned twice by my mental health professionals,
Now I’m on the way to thrice.
I’ve been forced to try and soothe my own ill mental health,
I am not a mental health paramedic,
I’m not a pharmacist,
Nor psychiatrist,
But it seems I have to heal my self!
I like to volunteer as a self appointed mental health advocate,
To shake up advertising that gets people hyped,
Like one session of CBT and you’ll be alright,
I pray for those that might,
But know to well the rivers that run deeper.
I try to step in for when the professionals don’t get it right,
And people are left,
Only seeing the end in sight.
I didn’t textbook study pain,
But my natural empathy sees me right.
It seems it has to get very dark before any restoration of light.
Is it I that will have to perform some kind of Martyr Sacrifice,
When will our stories truely be looked upon,
People will identify,
People will sympathise,
People will recognise,
And perhaps the system will apologise,
But it will take people like me to be dead and gone,
For the system to get a kick up the ass,
Reveal true stats,
And work at the level they so loudly pride upon,
Yet quietly loosing so many,
Truely some of the best have now gone,
I’m hanging on in there,
Trying to make people aware,
I shall reveal the thorns,
They only shout about the roses,
I have no huge platform,
But stand with me,
I am fighting for myself,
Got a lot of work to do,
But it is easier to fight for you,
When fighting for all of us,
I would like some help,
When fighting for myself,
The light turns out,
I do need help,
Exhausted all common sense,
Ran out of ideas,
Dried up and burnt out.

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