Yesterday, I took my medication. You may not be about to cheer and give me a parade for that, but I can assure you that James probably is and if he’s not it’s probably because he’s gone into an exhausted coma after having to deal with my non-medicated self for days and days and days on end.
I am good at taking my pills on a daily basis, just so long as someone else is keeping track of when I am going to run out. I think I am still living in the time when we would breakfast together and James would bring me my tablets and knew when I needed more to be ordered.
The first day off my meds is always okay. Sometimes it’s even good. So good that I think I can, maybe, see the light at the end of the medicated tunnel. But, once I get to day two, I crash and burn. I am exhausted, dizzy and, quite frankly, horrible.
Everything gets on my nerves. Birds singing in the morning, children laughing and (oh-for-the-love-of-everything-that-is-sane) playing, the dog being all doggy and the husband just being. People looking at me sideways. Not to mention that Willy Wag Tail that dances on the fence while I hang clothes, he could NOT be any more annoying. If. He. Tried. Seriously, why so peppy? And singy?
Even my most legitimate issues come out as a tirade of mammoth proportions which render them practically pointless, because the way I addressed it made them seem purely like the ramblings of a crazy person. Which just makes me more crazy because I know I have an actual REAL point, dammit.
And then I get to the point where I start to wonder. I wonder about myself and who I really am. I wonder if this horrible so-and-so is the real me. If I am a narky, grumpy, short tempered person naturally and that by taking my antidepressants I am changing myself into someone I am not. And I hate the thought of this being me. The longer the thought is allowed to sit, the more it seems to me to be the case. It makes sense, after all, this is my brain untouched.
Number 79 of my 101 in 1001 is ‘Come off my PND meds’, but every time I end up not having them for one reason or another I become more convinced that I might never be off them. And I struggle with whether I’m okay with that or not. Am I me on them? Will I forever be negative and overly anxious when not medicated? Am I me now that I have finally popped that little pill? Should this be something I am aspiring to or should I accept that this is how I keep myself balanced?
Right now, I am happy to leave the questions behind and get through the tough part of getting back on the meds. As well as figuring out a workable system for when I need a new order placed.
If you hear cheering while reading this, it’s definitely James doing the happy dance that life is starting to realign.
Image may be NSFW.
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