I hate meds

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 ❤️

Everything is a trigger

I have crippling PTSD and in some ways it defines me.

How my husband puts up with me sometimes is beyond me.

At times it feels like everything is a trigger.

My guard is always up, even when it’s down.

One “mispronounced” sentence leaves me emotionally distraught- the situation is suddenly “serious” and I have to protect myself.

Shutting down, completely dissociating, walking away.

It’s certainly not an easy way to live for anyone involved.

What are my triggers?

I don’t even know.

In the middle of a seemingly normal conversation I’m suddenly running away, thinking my entire life is ruined.

TRUST ME I don’t mean to be this way.

Everything inside of me wishes that my mind didn’t dissect every single thing it ever hears.

Talking to me can be a trigger.

NOT talking to me can be a trigger.

My PTSD makes me feel like people are always trying to manipulate me even when I know that they are people I can trust.

I grew up in an environment where I was constantly being manipulated.

Because of this, my brain has this distorted way of looking at people… looking at the world.

I was able to numb these emotions for a long time with drugs and alcohol but now that I’m a responsible adult….

How can I live without making myself crazy?

My husband knows me better than anyone on this planet.

We have our moments as any relationship does, but I know that he always has my best intentions at heart.

Yet no matter how much I am aware of this it doesn’t change the result when I’m triggered.

This unintentional panic rushes through me as effortlessly as blinking.

It’s like I’m on auto-pilot and the broken little girl in me takes over.

Usually I end up literally walking away in an effort to “escape the conflict”.

I feel out of control in those moments.

Torn between my heart and my head.

In the time alone I sit and negatively pick apart my brain.

This never ends well.

PTSD constantly attacks my sanity.

Is my husband going to get sick of me?

Sick of my baggage?!?!

If you are a regular reader of my blog then you are likely aware that I am quite the optimist.

I do what I do in an effort to help people.

When I begin writing an article I almost never have the answers for my conclusion worked out.

Writing has been a process of solving my own problems.

By doing this blog I am slowly healing myself.

This article is a tricky one though.

How do I change the messed up way my brain thinks?

“Children react. Adults respond.”

Said my brother following a heart to heart we had a couple months ago.

I’d asked him how to keep myself from rambling all the time- something that he has perfected.

Anxiety and attention deficit disorder are not a good combination.

My anxiety has me in a heightened state of awareness all the time.

My ADD has me all over the place.

All. The. Time.

I’ll remind myself before going somewhere to stay quiet… to just focus on something and be an observer instead of the annoying person who never shuts their mouth.

It has been years of attempting without success.

Silence is like nails on a chalkboard to me.

I can’t do silence.

Silence is a trigger.

Hence, why I ramble about stupid stuff all the time.

How do I respond when my brain can’t even figure out how to be quiet long enough to listen?

When I think of that quote I can’t help but feel like it may be useful in managing my PTSD.

If I take a moment to respond then I should have a second to remind myself that my husband isn’t a manipulator- before reacting and falling into crisis.

I’m clearly not a good listener.

I think that in this moment God is wanting me to practice what I preach.

To take a deep breath before responding.

To bare silence.

So I will practice, Lord.

I will push myself even in the moments that it’s uncomfortable.

I’ll be aware of myself and my surroundings.

And with God I can overcome this.❤️

Anyone have good remedies for PTSD?!

I’ve made leaps and bounds with this treatment ➡️ The miraculous treatment for anxiety that’s being kept secret

BUT, I feel like I’m stalling out on this manipulation issue.

Every session I completely dissociate and haven’t been able to truly put in the work!

I’d love to hear any tips and as always, would gladly accept any prayers!! ❤️

Thank you for stopping by and for being my wonderful blogging community!

You guys are THE BEST!!

Visit Project Identity for more 😊👍

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