Frustration

Hi, i'm new to the site. I feel useless right now, and it's something I feel daily, usually. I have outlets -- I read, write poetry and fiction, I paint, I draw, I do body modification. I'm on medication -- prozac and lithium -- and am not willing to be at any higher of a dose, as it starts to compromise my mental functioning, and so the point is lost. I'm nutrionally conscious, although slightly overweight -- I over-indulge in chocolate and other sweet comfort foods.

I am frustrated. The feeling of emptyness always seems to return after a certain period of time -- and lasts, and lasts. I'm not dealing with major depression right now; I don't have the mood swings I ever used to. But I have started to resort to things that are slightly ocd in nature -- picking my scalp (i am starting to develop bald patches, which makes me really nervous about going out in public -- I haven't had a professional haircut since middleschool as i've been struggling with this since then), biting and pinching myself -- basically anything that I can conceal. I get frustrated because the world is so messed up and I can't even deal with my own limitations and contradictions -- I feel useless. I am losing the will to live. I can be a very driven person, in school and at work, volunteering -- I find it difficult to join organizations because the fear I feel at having to put myself out there, in public -- voicing my opinions in a "free" sort of way -- cripples me. I get down on myself because I don't do more.

Lately i've been obsessed with my weight and the size of my breasts. I'll lay it on the line -- 5"9, 175 pounds, dd. I hate my body, I hate the lumps and bumps, I hate it. I thought i'd come past all this.

My doctor and my psychiatrist both have heavy caseloads, and as i'm not suicidal right now, they're happy just to feed me my pills. I've been trying to work on self esteem issues, family issues, all this type of stuff, for a long time -- but i'm faltering. I often wish, even though i'm mentally cognizant and should be able to take care of my own damn self, that I could be committed. White walls, starched sheets, freedom in a prison. At this point, i'm willing to give my self up -- I am willing to give up my partner, who I love; i'm willing to step out on all my friends. I know they'd think that this is all caca -- I have made it a point, ever since I survived being tormented in elementary and middle school, to never let anyone know just exactly how i'm feeling about myself. Except y'all. And it's only because I get a measure of anonymity.

Can anyone help? I just need feedback... I don't even know my own goal at this point. I'm priviledged -- I have a roof over my head, a job, a partner, and I do well in school. I'm guilty for being guilty. I eat myself up inside.