THREE DAYS WITHOUT EFFEXOR
Streetlights reflect in puddles
like small potholes of light,
but even that image can’t inspire
the poet to breathe.
Depression sits in her like a saucer,
completely removable,
given the right circumstances,
given the right medicine.
But for now the saucer lies in her chest,
shrapnel of melancholia,
a cup overflowing with eagerness
only to sleep, to sample oblivion.
JACKIE LEA SOMMERS 
Your not alone with those feeling. You could not have put it in words better.
I like the poem. Every time I learn more about what you went through, I am saddened but I am also excited by how God has used that to shape you into who you are now.