When you meet me next what will you see,
Will you look at the illness or will you look at me,
Will you be surprised at the progress I've made,
How the "borderline traits" continue to fade.
Will my remarkable progress start to confuse,
The diagnostic criteria used,
Am I really quite so cut and so clear,
May I get out my box and stand over here.
I hope you will see that the medication,
Is perfect with not a sign of sedation,
These days feel like its no effort to make,
Since the increased dose you allowed me to take.
Maybe you'll be the Dr who can,
Finally see the person I am,
To harm myself I do not require,
Recovery is all I've ever desired.
7 months and consistently well,
Through these months I've a story to tell,
"Complex" may be my middle name,
I tried to tell you it wasn't the same.
I think we know that I have my thoughts,
Of all that I am and of all I'm not,
I've always felt misunderstood,
They seen the bad and missed the good.
I've no idea what conclusion you'll find,
Maybe I am just "one of a kind"
"dual diagnosis" or maybe just one,
I live for the day my diagnosis is "none"
- Angela McCrimmon