I was thinking today about my meds. Every once in awhile I get the crazy thought that maybe I don’t need them. I wonder what it would be like to not have to be on them. Maybe I’ve beaten this thing?
Then I realize how crazy that sounds. And I know what’s on the other side of stopping my meds. Mania. Psychosis. Depression. Crippling anxiety.
Things that I don’t want to deal with or experience ever again.
It’s a bitter pill to swallow (pun intended), knowing that you’re going to have to stay on meds for the rest of your life. That this is a chronic condition that will need constant monitoring, constant work, and constant medication.
I hate this. I hate that my own brain can’t regulate its own chemicals. I hate that I can’t trust it to just do it’s thing and hum along normally like a neurotypical brain.
It really is amazing, the things that your brain can do. I mean, despite everything that’s wrong with mine, I’ve found ways of coping that allow me to lead a relatively normal life. I mean, I have a job, a husband, pets, a mortgage, a vehicle. Friends.
In many ways, my life is a wonder.
When I was a teenager, not long after my diagnosis, I had a doctor tell me that my life was literally over. I’d have to go on disability. I’d never finish school. Never hold down a job. Probably never have any meaningful relationships.
But every one of us that just does the best that they can proves that doctor wrong.
And I’m proud of us.
Go you. Go us.
Take your pills, do your therapy, and kick some ass. We got this.