It may be dramatic, but this is how I’ve come to see the circumstance:
My mind is a battlefield. Every day is just another battle in the ongoing war between intellect and emotion. All I know and accept of myself is the aftermath; my life, the collateral damage.
Antidepressants, anti-anxiety medication, then, is just ammo for the intellect.
And finally, fucking finally, I’m packing. Locked and loaded again.
Yay for that.