They help, but they also stunt.
And, no one does more harm to me than what my illness does to me.
That being said, I know I need what the antipsychotic meds afford me.
I wish for more middle ground though.
I wish for more healing.
I wish for something other than what my life experience brings.
If I had the ability to pick up the pieces without harming myself any further,
That’s what I would do.
But, that isn’t going to happen.
And, that’s largely because of the antipsychotics and my illness.
So, I’m defeated now and ever since my life began.
Defeated on the one hand.
Triumphant on the other (or so I’m told).