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.

We all make mistakes but such serious ones should be avoided…

For those of you keeping up, the floodgates have opened with great gusto! The dam has broken and the tears have recommenced. The drought was not long but appreciated all the same.
I just wanted to ask you (as someone who suffers from mental health) and/or (your carers, support, friends, family, help) not only keep a close eye on your mood, diet and day to day routine, also keep an eye on your medication. I have often been given to much, to little, double or nothing and been left to figure out what is right all by myself. Yes I am a thirty-one year old woman and I should be able to take full control and responsibility for what goes into my body but it isn’t that simple for me anymore. I get confused a lot. My memory is poor. I am lethargic most of the time. For those reasons, plus my impulsive, self destructive tendencies to harm myself and take over doses, I am only allowed a weeks instalment of medication at any one time. They bring it to my house and I follow the time table on my blister pack.
Lately I have been given a few new additions to my already heavily medicated care plan. If able and compos mentis enough, I know to always check what is what that they have given me, as the pharmacy often makes mistakes and deliver the wrong dose or completely miss something out. I can understand that these things happen accidentally and the incidents are few and far between but none the less, very dangerous. My medication enables me to get up, get out and try to live some sort of normal life. They are the fuel to my motor, the switch to my brain, the motivation to do anything but nothing.
As you know, home treatment team have been visiting me daily since my last incident. The nurse that came yesterday brought a concoction of about ten tablets when I was only supposed to receive two of one, three of another and nothing more. “PRN”, is a medical term for as and when required, rather then a regular prescription. They have been prescribing certain meds to get through my crisis and I can take one up to three times a day if required. All of my other medication is compulsory. I must take certain ones, at certain times throughout the day. I have medication for depression, for anxiety and anti-psychotics. It’s fair to say that I am rather heavily medicated in order to try and live a more comfortable life.
The doctor that came to see me on Tuesday prescribed an additional 50mg to the 700mg of anti-psychotics that I already take. I usually take it at night and he wants the adjustment to the dose to be consumed along with my morning and afternoon medication. Therefor I will be taking the anti psychotic throughout the day and night, rather then just at night. A nurse dropped off the additional medicine last night, along with extra of my already prescribed anti-anxiety meds! This is a classic example of when the help goes wrong. If I had consumed the extra tablets delivered, on top of the three that I would have already consumed that day, I may have had a mini and accidental overdose. This is a classic case of communication breakdown. Somewhere along the way the prescription was misinterpreted, and more then necessary was distributed. I am so glad that I recognised the blue pills that the nurse was going to leave with me. I asked if she could take them back because I don’t need any additional self destructive distractions. The problem is, someone out there may have not noticed and consumed the lot. If I was emotional, eratic or even suicidal at that point, I may have not been so sensible and cautious. Such mistakes can lead t fatal possibilities, which is really sad because when you engage with the help, it suggests that you really do want to get better and in this particular case, it could have been the help that hurt or killed me!