My meds were making my life totally harmonious (or at least tolerable) for three years, then suddenly slam! it all went downhill for no perceivable reason. For nearly a year now my brilliant psychiatrist can't even put the brakes on my depression, much less turn it around. He just keeps throwing drugs at me, like I'm a rat in one of his lab cages, to see what happens.

Last week at our appointment I screamed my fury at him, telling him I wasn't one of his rats but would be pleased to bite him, hard, for being too stupid to fix me.

I meant every word of my rant.

So I think I can appreciate your being at the end of your rope with the meds. I am too.

I think about not taking them any more. But I believe my brain chemistry is wrong. I cannot think it right. I need meds. I need to work with a doctor to get the right ones.

I consider ending my life. But my friends wouldn't understand. Every time a new med came out, they'd wonder, couldn't she have waited? This might have been the one! Did I fail her? I can't do that.

So I've decided to wait until tomorrow. Every day, I decide to wait only until tomorrow.

Roadrunner