This is so unfair. It's like if you had diabetes and your doctor was like "You can't have your insulin until you eat eighteen Pixie Stix, a 16-ounce package of Skittles and a doughnut."
Or if you needed a heart transplant and your surgeon was all "Oh, you need a heart? Well, you're in luck! We have one for you at the top of that mountain over there. You just have to climb up and get it. You might have to fight some tigers. Good luck!" It's kind of like that too.
You shouldn't have to overcome your disorder to get medication to help you overcome your disorder. That is the kind of thing that causes the universe to implode.
Hyperbole and a Half
She writes a humor blog, links to which have been floating around lately, but in reading back through her archives what's intriguing me most is the bits that stem from, root in, the author's mental illness and unemployment. It intrigues me because, well, those are two pretty pertinent aspects of my own life.
I ramble. My point: The above is so painfully true. Humorously put, but still painful. It's why I stopped trying to find a medical recourse for my mental illnesses. I stopped taking Wellbutrin and Zoloft without tapering down because I simply ran out of pills and couldn't muster the will to get more. I didn't always make therapy appointments because it was too difficult for me to get there. Therapy, medication, all of it holds a lot of promise, but in order to manage the thousand steps of considering finding getting attending refilling revisiting my medical route of choice I had to be doing pretty well in the first place. More often, I couldn't treat my illness because of my illness.
It's a particularly cruel form of a Catch-22.
True words, true words.
Meanwhile, I love this alot.