Oxygen
Posted on December 15, 2007
(A real simple, borderline awful “poem ” to several writing friends of mine who suffer from severe depression, and who are medicated up to the eyeballs. It’s not good…. You guys worry me… And if you ask me, I wouldn’t remotely trust any of that pharmaceutical CRAP anyway.)
Oxygen
I will admit I’m just a boy
and when I aim to fly real high
and take my silver shining toy
way up in to the hostile sky
I’ve learned to never mock thin air
it gets a little rare up there.
I bring along a small supply
of living air with which to try
to breath a touch of quiet sense
when pondering the blue immense
eternity… and all that might
erupt into my line of sight.
To be euphoric can be good
as long as it is understood
that we are simple ground bound souls
who tend perhaps to target goals
a little lofty would you say
in a kind of simple way?
My writing friends I urge you all
to fly with care and never fall
be cautious when you’re high up there
respect the dangers ev’rywhere
you might not be just quite as strong
despite your thinking all along…
Last edited by Francis Meyrick on January 10, 2009, 8:51 am
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1/25/08
Hm. And the last few days, I happen to notice headlines on the net about "amazing" discoveries that it turns out that those famed anti-depressants do not work very well, anyway. (gasps in amazement)
Yeah, right. I wonder if the multi-billion dollar pharmaceutical had ABOLUTELY NO IDEA all these years that their products were really just little more than very expensive placebos??
And I wonder are they going to return some of their vast profits to the consumers?
It needs a class action lawsuit, if you ask me.
Hmm. I feel somewhat connected with this topic, as someone who has never taken anti-depressants but has been told by a therapist that she should. Depression is something that "runs in my family." Several close family members have been on, or are currently taking anti-depressants. My mother was until she chose to stop because she felt the side effects were more harmful to her life than the depression. She still struggles with it to this day, and the effects spread throughout my family. That was her choice, but this is not the answer for everyone. Her sister was recently suicidal. The doctors treating her for leukemia and diabetes had screwed up her anti-depression medication. Even after learning that her transplant had not been rejected by her immune system (meaning she has a chance to live), she was still severely depressed. Within two days of starting on the appropriate anti-depressant, she was visibly better and no longer suicidal.
I agree that anti-depressants are not the perfect cure-all to anything. However, as a Psychology major and (hopefully) a future counseling psychologist, I don’t so much blame the drug as the application of it. Medically, it has been proven that anti-depressants have the best results when taken while also undergoing therapy. Now, therapy is not usually cheap. Because of this, insurance companies are all too happy to pay for the cheap/easy answer: anti-depressants, which are only half of the treatment. Lo and behold, people still find themselves struggling with depression, even when on the anti-depressants. There is no true "easy" fix to anything worth having in life…happiness included.
I’m pretty much finished ranting. Sorry to go on so long.
As far as your poem, please allow me to switch my tone. I really enjoyed the line, "I’ve learned to never mock thin air." And I love the sentiment and concern that motivated you to write this poem. Keep caring, Francis!
Excellent post. And yours has the aura of "knowing what you’re talking about", whereas, when it comes to anti-depressants and therapy, that is quite outwith my orbit and experience, and -I will frankly admit – I am puzzled by the Great American Obsession with stuffing vast amounts of expensive pharmaceutical chemical compounds down depressed throats…
I need to address your post maybe in some greater detail. I will go off and devour some of my favorite anti-depressants (choccie bikkies) and see if I can put pen to paper (or even digital information to screen) and come up with some more pearls of gobbledygook. Thank you for reading this "poem", and even liking the emotional content, when -actually- I damn nearly deleted it after I’d written it. Looked like something a twelve year old would have written. Ah! That explains it. That would be about my mental age.