Did you take your meds? It's a question that I hear every single night. My usual answer: "Oh yeah. I will." Then I pull out my 7-day pill box and swallow down my med cocktail, consisting of six pills combining four different types of meds.
I'm not crazy. But if I don't take these pills, I can't function well. It's as simple as that. If I forget to take one or more pills, my brain tells me about it within a few hours in its own rude way. Yeah, that's what it is: my brain is a meanie. It's all my brain's fault. If my brain could only balance its chemicals on its own, then none of this would be necessary.
The pills run my life. I can't miss them for even one day. I've endured numerous side effects and even allergic reactions. I can only drink alcohol "once or twice a month" (I can hear my doctor's voice saying it every session). They've caused me to gain weight. They cause heartburn and nausea at times. There are even times when I feel like I'm going through life completely drugged into oblivion, like a robot without worries and lacking raw emotion. Because that is what my meds do: tame my anxiety and emotions. With all of above in mind, my pills save me from pain. And side effects win over the pain by a landslide in my book.
I have bipolar disorder (BP) with rotating hypomanic and depressive episodes. And I've been hit by the comorbidity of generalized anxiety disorder (GAD). And it sucks. And I'm having a bad day.
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