The other day I texted my husband and dropped the bomb yet again.
My meds aren’t working.
I finally freaking admitted it… to my husband and to myself.
Aren’t working like how?!
He wrote back.
Not working as in not being able to handle dramatic confrontations… not working as in telling you I hated you like a psycho…😔
My meds haven’t been working for awhile.
Finally, I’ve reached my breaking point with them.
If you’ve ever taken medication you are likely familiar with that terrible feeling when you begin noticing the meds aren’t a good fit.
You fight with yourself on if it’s even worth all of the stress and anxiety that comes with changing.
The last time I changed my meds I ended up in a crisis center on a 72 hour hold.
Since “regaining stability” on a new antidepressant, irritability and impulsivity have been the most noticeable side effects.
However, in comparison to landing in a crazy house, these side effects seemed manageable.
At least until I found myself shouting those insanely awful words at my poor husband…
“I hate you!”
In that moment I knew I’d have to bare whatever fate was headed for me as I gear up to make yet another switch.
I love my husband more than words and the fact that those terrible words could even come out of my mouth absolutely kills me.
Who is this crazy person I’ve become on these pills that are supposed to be making me “normal”…?
I hate everything about this.
I hate that this chemical substance, that I put in my body, is powerful enough to change my values… to change who I am.
I hate that I feel trapped as this person who I don’t want to be and I hate that there is no easy way out.
I hate watching myself destroy everything that’s important to me while sitting on the sidelines in my own life.
If you read Life sentenced to medication then you are already aware that I had my identity stripped of me as a child.
I’ll never forget that very first psychiatrist visit- almost 20 years ago.
Ironically, what I have lost sight of, is who I was before being signed up for this mess.
More than anything I want to meet myself.
I want to be able to wake up in the morning and just be normal like everyone else without taking a handful of pills that don’t even work.
I want to feel completely in control of the things I do and say.
I want to know who the hell I am underneath all of these stupid pills.
There are only two things that I’m sure of.
One- if I skip my pills for a day I feel like a hungover, quivering robot who can absolutely not function.
Two- I freaking hate medication!
YES, medication is definitely required for some people.
Maybe I am one of those people…
I just wish so badly that I could have made that decision for myself.
Having done so would make this lifestyle feel much less out of control.
As I sit here watching my life play out in front of me from behind a glass window, there is one thing I wish for my readers.
While my identity may be long gone, I hope it wasn’t all for nothing.
I pray that some way, some how, this post can reach a parent who is on the fence with treatment options for their child.
I pray that if possible, this post can be enough to convince someone to just let their child be a child…
If you feel like medication is the only option, DISCUSS IT THOROUGHLY WITH YOUR CHILD.
Allow them to have a voice in the decision making process.
Let them know all of the risks involved and that this could potentially, be a life sentence– as it was for me.
Check out my blog Project Identity for more ❤️