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During this last bout of depression my therapist made me bring her all my old meds as I was too suicidal to be trusted with them. I kept the emsam patches (since I really can’t easily OD on those) and the trazodone for sleep even though that’s the one she really wanted me to bring in. But I hate not being able to sleep. The rest of it I don’t care about and I’m glad it’s gone.
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Of course it is happening inside your head. But why on earth should that mean that it is not real?
-Albus Dumbledore
That’s life. If nothing else, that is life. It’s real. Sometimes it
f—-ing hurts. But it’s sort of all we have.
-Garden State
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