Or, Why I Love Effexor

Dooce: Because I Couldn’t Say It On The Phone

I burst into tears reading this, because it’s so true, and written so much more eloquently than I could have managed.  A must-read for anyone who has been in therapy, ever considered therapy, or loves someone who needs therapy.
“I think many people are afraid that if they take medication or even agree to see a therapist that they are in some way admitting failure or defeat. Or they have been told by their boyfriend or their mother or their best friend that they should buck up and get over it, and that asking for help is a sign of weakness. Well then, let me be weak. Let me be a failure. Because being over here on this side, where I see and think clearly, where I’m happy to greet my child in the morning, where I can logically maneuver my way over tiny obstacles that would have previously been the end of the world, over here being a failure is a hell of a lot more enjoyable than the constant misery of suffering alone.”
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