Ready to throw in the towel

Oh, look. I've got my angry eyes on again.

You know, I am so fed up with my mental health and mental healthcare. I was so irritated about all of it this afternoon that I decided I'm weaning myself off all my meds. All of them.

Luckily for anyone and everyone who has any contact with me - real or virtual - I got over that particular snit fairly quickly.

The thing I'm most annoyed with is my failure to get some sort of balance. Nothing seems to be working like it's supposed to. My depression gets a bit better, but my anxiety skyrockets. Nothing touches the anxiety, which is generally fairly low-level and manageable, though always present. But when it's not low-level and manageable, it's really not.

My psychiatrist - who I see because he's the one my therapist would choose for her own psychiatrist - is hard to read. I feel like nothing I say gets through to him, or that he thinks I'm making things up. My therapist (who always seems to be right) assures me that he's the best of the two or three good psychiatrists in the area, but I'm starting to doubt. The dude who's supposed to be fixing my crazy shouldn't be the one making me feel crazier, right?

I hate being out of control of my healthcare. I especially hate it when there seems to be no good reason for the way things are being done and no good explanation for why other things aren't being done.

I'm just sick of it. But I resisted the urge to flush my nightly handful of (approximately 11) pills down the toilet tonight. You'll thank me for that later.